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Seeing  France  With 
Uncle  John 


"I  held  the  guide-book  and  read  the  explanations,  while  he 
kept  up  a  running  contradiction  of  everything  I  read  " 


Seeing  France 
Uncle  John 


By 

Anne  learner 

Author  of 
"  Susan    Ctegg  and  her  friend  Airs.  Latbrop,"  etc. 

With  Illustrations  by 

May  Wilson  Preston 


New  Tork 

The  Century  Co. 

1906 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 


Published  October,  1906 


THE    DE  VINNE    PRESS 


List  of  Illustrations 
\j 


PAGE 

"  I   held  the  guide-book  and  read  the  explanations, 
while    he    kept  up  a  running  contradiction   of 

everything  I  read" Frontispiece 

"  She  lies  still  and  talks  to  M.  Sibilet  "  .      .      .      .  8 

"  While  we  walk  " 9 

Rouen — Maison  du  XV  siecle 24 

"  '  Richard  Creur-de-Lion — petrified,  eh  r  '    '    .      .  33 

"  'So  that  's  the  clock  ?'  :          .......  41 

"  '  There  's  been  no  tampering  with  this  ruin' ':      .  65 
"  '  This  is  as  good  a  time  as  we  Ml  have  to  study  up 

on  Gisors'  " 79 

"  <  Tell  her  we  want  dinner  for  four,  and  prompt  '  93 

Beauvais 9^ 

"  '  What  's  that  chopped-ofF  creation  before  us  ? '  99 
"  '  Look  how  mad  that  old  lady  is  '          .      .      .      .105 

"  We  found  our  beloved  relative  " I  16 

"  She  took  hold  of  our  hands  as  if  she  'd  been  our 

long-lost  mother  for  years  " 121 

Dreux 15° 

<<  Elfrida  says  they  are  seeing  Europe  nicely  on  less 
than  a  dollar  a  day,  and    Uncle   said,   "Great 

Scott!  '  "       ...........  157 

v 


List  of  Illustrations 


PAGE 

Falaise 160 

"  Paid  the  man  at  the  entrance  and  let  him  go  "      .  163 

"  The  coming  down  was  awful" 168 

"  '  I  'm  happy  that  it  will  be  out  of  the  question 

for  me  ever  to  travel  again '  " 177 

"  Lee  was  awfully  rude  and  kept  yawning,  and  I 
know  she  did  n't  like  it  by  the  way  she  looked 

at  him  " 195 

Caen 198 

"  He  has  his  meals  in  his  room,  for  he  says  he  can 
not  even  think  calmly  of  a  stair-case  yet"  „      .  205 

Bayeux 216 

"  And  it  was  Lee  " 221 

"  We  passed  Elfrida  and  her  sister  to-day,  pedaling 

along  for  dear  life  " 228 

"  Miss  Clara  Emily  is  getting  very  much  in  earnest  "  245 

In  Mont-Saint-Michel 276 

"  Uncle  sitting  on    the   ramparts  with    Miss    Clara 

Emily" 281 

"  Mrs.  Whalen  has  just  come  in  to  say  she  is  going 

to  Dol  " 293 

A  Street  in  Auray 301 

"  When  he  went  to  wash  I  gave  the  waiter  an  extra 

tip  to  feed  us  quickly  " 303 

"  Broke  the  bell-rope  ordering  breakfast  "      .      .      .307 
-'•'*  He   told    Mrs.    Clary   that   he   had   foreseen    this 

finale  to  our  trip  all  along,"  etc 315 


VI 


Seeing   France 
Uncle   John 


Seeing  France 
Uncle  John 


YVONNE   TO    HER    MOTHER 

Second  day  out  at  sea. 

DEAR  MAMA:    We  did  get 
off  at  last,  about  four  in  the 
afternoon,  but  you  never  im 
agined   anything  like  the  day  we    had 
with  Uncle   John.      It  was  awful,  and, 
as  luck  would  have  it,  he  just  happened 
to  go  aft  or  sou'west,  or  whatever  it  is 

[3] 


Seeing  France 

on  shipboard,  in  time  to  see  them  drop 
his  trunk  into  the  hold,  and  they  let  it 
fall  from  such  a  height  that  he  swore  for 
an  hour.  I  don't  see  why  Uncle  is  so 
unreasonable;  a  Russian  gentleman  had 
the  locks  broken  to  both  his  trunks  and 
just  smiled,  and  a  very  lovely  Italian 
lady  had  her  trunk  caved  in  by  the  hoist 
ing-rope  and  only  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders;  but  Uncle  turned  the  whole  deck 
fairly  black  and  blue  on  account  of  a 
little  fall  into  the  hold.  If  Lee  had 
only  been  along  to  soothe  him  down ! 
But  Lee  is  in  London  by  this  time.  I 
do  think  he  might  have  waited  and  gone 
with  us,  but  Uncle  says  he  's  glad  he 
did  n't,  because  he  says  he  has  more  than 
half  an  idea  that  Lee 's  in  love  with  me, 
and  that  no  girl  alive  could  be  happy 

[4] 


With  Uncle  John 


with  him.  I  wish  Uncle  liked  Lee 
better.  I  wish  Lee  would  n't  slap  him 
on  the  back  and  call  him  "old  boy"  the 
way  he  does. 

Mrs.  Clary  does  n't  like  it  because  she 
has  to  sit  next  to  the  doctor  and  talk 
English  to  him,  and  he  can't  talk  Eng 
lish.  She  says  whenever  she  goes  on 
board  a  liner  the  doctor  always  spots 
her  as  intelligent-looking,  and  has  her 
put  next  to  him  for  English  purposes. 
She  says  she  's  made  seven  trips  as  nur 
sery-governess  to  a  doctor  with  linguistic 
aspirations.  The  consequence  is,  she 
has  most  of  her  meals  on  deck  with  a 
man  named  Mr.  Chopstone.  Uncle 
does  n't  like  Mr.  Chopstone,  because  he 
says  he  has  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  Mr. 
Chopstone  admires  "Edna.  He  says 

[5] 


Seeing  France 

Edna  could  never  be  happy  with  a  man 
like  Mr.  Chopstone. 
More  later. 

Fourth  day  out. 

I  'VE  been  writing  Lee;  I  can  mail  it  at 
Plymouth.  It  does  seem  to  me  as  if  Lee 
might  have  waited  and  gone  with  us. 

We  are  nicely  adjusted  now,  and  Un 
cle  has  had  his  trunk  brought  to  his 
room,  and  has  examined  the  corners  and 
found  them  intact;  so  now  the  trunk  is 
off  his  mind.  But  he  has  almost  had 
fits  over  a  man  named  Monsieur  Sibilet, 
so  the  situation  has  been  about  as  brim- 
stony  as  ever.  M.  Sibilet  is  a  French 
man  going  back  to  France,  but  his  chair 
is  next  to  Mrs.  Clary's,  and  Uncle  says 
steamer-chairs  are"  never  accidents,  but 
[6] 


With  Uncle  John 


are  always  premeditated  and  with  intent 
to  kill.  He  asked  Mrs.  Clary  if  she 
could  n't  see  that  no  woman  could  ever 
be  happy  with  a  dancing  fan-tan  like 
Sibilet.  We  did  n't  know  what  a  "fan- 
tan  "  was,  but  we  all  agreed  with  Uncle's 
premises  as  to  poor  monsieur;  and  then 
it  developed  that  there  is  a  Mme.  Sibi 
let  deathly  sick  down  below,  and  Uncle 
said  that  he  had  known  it  all  the  time 
and  was  only  joking. 

Edna  and  Harry  are  very  happy,  but 
they  have  to  be  awfully  careful,  because 
Uncle  says  he  has  a  half-fledged  notion 
that  Harry  is  paying  attention  to  Edna, 
and  that  he  won't  allow  anything  of  the 
kind — not  for  one  York  second.  We 
don't  know  what  a  "York  second"  is, 
and  we  have  n't  asked.  Uncle  plays 


Seeing  France 

poker  nights,  and  we  make  the  most  of 
it.  There  is  a  nice  Yale  man  on  board, 
and  I  walk  around  with  him.  His  name 
is  Edgar.  Uncle  says  he  looks  as  if  he 


"She  lies  still  and  talks  to  M.  Sibilet " 

had  his  bait  out  for  a  fortune,  but  Mrs. 
Clary  says  to  never  mind  it — to  go  right 
on  walking.  She  lies  still  while  we 
walk,  and  talks  to  M.  Sibilet  in  French. 
[8] 


With  Uncle  John 

Uncle  says  he  is  the  head  of  this  ex 
pedition,  and  there  's  to  be  no  foolish 
ness.  He  says  it  's  all  rot  about  a  man 


"  While  we  walk  " 

not  being  able  to  see  through  women, 
and  that  Edna  and  I  need  n't  expect  to 
keep  any  secrets  from  him.  I  do  wish 
Lee  was  here  to  soothe  him  down.  He 

[9] 


Seeing  France 

was  so  furious  to-day  because  he  shut  up 
his  wash-stand  and  let  the  tooth-powder 
slide  to  perdition.  M.  Sibilet  offered 
him  an  extra  box  of  his  own,  but  Uncle 
was  n't  a  bit  grateful.  He  says  he  is 
sure  M.  Sibilet  is  in  love  with  Mrs. 
Clary  now,  or  why  under  the  sun  should 
he  offer  him  his  tooth-powder?  He  says 
he  thinks  it  's  disgraceful,  considering 
poor  Mme.  Sibilet,  and  he  took  mine 
instead. 

More  later. 

Sixth  day  out. 

I  DO  WISH  we  were  in  Havre,  or  any 
where  w^here  Uncle  had  more  room. 
The  third  officer  invited  him  up  on  the 
bridge  yesterday,  and  Uncle  says  you 
need  n't  tell  him  that  any  third  officer 
in  this  world  ever  would  invite  him  up 

[10] 


With  Uncle  John 


to  the  bridge  unless  he  had  his  eye  on 
Edna  or  me.  Uncle  says  for  Edna  and 
me  to  remember  that  old  uncles  have 
eyes  as  well  as  young  third  officers,  and 
to  bear  in  mind  that  it  would  be  a  dog's 
life  to  be  married  to  a  third  officer. 
I  'm  beginning  to  be  very  glad,  indeed, 
that  Lee  took  another  steamer;  I  reckon 
Lee  saw  how  it  would  be.  Uncle  says 
he  'd  like  to  know  what  we  took  a  slow 
steamer  for,  anyhow.  He  says  it  would 
have  been  more  comfortable  to  have  all 
been  in  death  agonies  and  to  have  been 
in  Havre  by  this  time.  He  was  terribly 
upset  to-day  by  Mme.  Sibilet's  coming 
on  deck  and  proving  to  be  an  old  lady 
with  white  hair  and  the  mother  of  mon 
sieur  instead  of  the  wife.  He  says  you 
need  n't  talk  to  him  about  French  honor 


Seeing  France 

after  this.  We  don't  know  what  the 
connection  is  between  poor  old  Mme. 
Sibilet  and  French  honor,  but  we  think 
it  best  not  to  ask.  The  truth  is,  Uncle 
lost  all  patience  with  M.  Sibilet  the  day 
it  rained  and  pitched — I  think  it  was  the 
third  day  out.  He  never  did  like  him 
very  much,  anyhow.  Mrs.  Clary  wanted 
to  sit  in  the  wind  that  day,  and  she  and 
monsieur  sat  in  the  wind  until  the  rain 
grew  so  bad  that  they  were  absolutely 
driven  to  come  around  and  sit  by  Uncle, 
under  the  lee  of  the  port,  or  whatever  it 
is  on  board  ship.  Monsieur  lugged  Mrs. 
Clary's  chair  because  he  could  n't  find  a 
steward,  and  he  brought  it  around  by  the 
smoking-room  and  the  whole  length  of 
the  deck,  with  the  steamer  pitching  so 
that  half  the  time  he  was  on  top  of  the 

[12] 


With  Uncle  John 


chair,  and  the  other  half  of  the  time  the 
chair  was  on  top  of  him.  There  was 
no  one  on  deck  but  us,  on  account  of 
the  storm,  and  I  thought  we  should  die 
laughing,  because  there  were  forty 
empty  chairs  under  shelter  already. 
Uncle  waited  until,  wdth  a  final  slip  and 
a  slide,  the  poor  man  landed  the  chair, 
and  then  he  screamed:  "I  say,  Sibbilly, 
just  take  the  cards  out  and  change  them 
another  time.  That  's  the  way  we 
Americans  do." 

You  should  have  seen  poor  mon 
sieur's  face  !  Uncle  said  the  whole  affair 
gave  him  a  queer  feeling  as  to  what 
might  be  in  store  for  us  in  France.  He 
said  if  M.  Sibilet  was  a  sample  French 
man,  he  thought  he  would  n't  get  off  at 
Havre,  after  all. 


Seeing  France 

Mrs.  Clary  is  in  lots  of  trouble  over 
the  doctor.  He  comes  up  on  deck  and 
bothers  her  half  to  death,  talking  Eng 
lish.  She  can't  understand  his  English, 
and  M.  Sibilet  gets  tired  translating.  M. 
Sibilet  speaks  seven  languages.  Uncle 
says  that 's  nothing  to  his  credit,  how 
ever. 

More  later. 

Ninth  day  out. 

UNCLE  is  in  high  spirits  to-day,  for 
he  won  the  pool.  He  has  .been  so  dis 
gusted  because  Mr.  Edgar  has  won  it 
three  times.  Uncle  says  that 's  no  sign 
he  'd  be  a  good  husband,  though.  I  do 
think  Uncle's  logic  is  so  very  peculiar. 
He  came  into  my  state-room  to-day  and 
asked  me  if  I  did  n't  think  the  doctor 


With  Uncle  John 


was  absolutely  Impertinent  in  the  way 
he  was  pursuing  Mrs.  Clary.  You  'd 
have  thought  the  doctor  tore  after  her 
around  the  deck,  to  hear  him.  He  said 
he  expected  to  have  trouble  with  Edna 
and  me,  but  he  never  looked  for  Mrs. 
Clary  to  be  a  care.  He  said  he  did  n't 
suppose  she  was  over  forty,  but  she  ought 
to  consider  appearances  more.  He  was 
quite  put  out,  and  I  am  gladder  than  ever 
that  Lee  is  n't  with  us. 

We  laughed  ourselves  half  sick  to-day 
over  Mr.  Chopstone.  Uncle's  port-hole 
does  n't  work  very  easily,  and  Mr. 
Chopstone  heard  him  talking  about  it 
to  himself  as  he  passed  in  the  corridor, 
and  he  went  in  to  help  him.  Uncle 
asked  Mr.  Chopstone  if  he  had  a  crow 
bar  or  a  monkey-wrench  with  him,  and 


Seeing  France 

Mr.  Chopstone  did  n't  have  a  crow-bar 
or  a  monkey-wrench  with  him,  but  said 
why  not  ring  for  the  steward.  Uncle 
would  n't  hear  to  the  steward,  and  so 
they  climbed  on  the  divan  together  and 
tried  to  pry  it  with  Uncle's  hair-brush. 
The  hair-brush  broke,  and  Uncle 
went  spinning,  but  Mr.  Chopstone 
caught  his  cuff  in  the  crack,  and  it  tore, 
and  half  of  his  shirt-sleeve  with  a  dia 
mond  cuff-link  went  to  sea.  At  first 
we  all  felt  awful  about  it,  but  he  was  so 
composed  that  Edna  said  he  must  be  a 
millionaire,  and  Uncle  said  it  must  be  a 
paste  diamond.  That  is  all  only  pre 
liminary  to  the  funny  part.  This  after 
noon  we  were  lying  in  our  chairs  and 
Uncle  was  standing  by  the  rail  looking 
at  a  ship.  All  of  a  sudden  he  exclaimed, 


With  Uncle  John 


"  Great  Scott  !  Chopstone,  if  there  is  n't 
your  cuff!"  Mr.  Chopstone  made  just 
one  bound  from  his  chair  to  the  rail,  and 
looked  over  so  hard  that  his  cap  fell  into 
the  sea.  Of  course  the  mere  idea  of 
the  cuff  having  sailed  as  fast  as  we  did 
all  day  used  us  up  completely,  and  Un 
cle  in  particular  had  to  hang  to  the  rail 
for  support  while  he  sort  of  wove  back 
and  forth  in  an  ecstasy  of  speechless  joy. 
Even  M.Sibilet  was  overcome  by  mirth, 
although  it  turned  out  afterward  that  he 
thought  the  fun  was  on  account  of  the 
lost  cap.  And  then,  when  we  got  our 
selves  under  control  once  more,  Mr. 
Chopstone  explained  that  what  he  had 
thought  was  that  the  cuff  had  caught 
somewhere  on  the  outside  of  the 
steamer  and  that  Uncle  saw  it  hanging 


Seeing  France 

there.  Edna  says  that  it  all  shows  that 
poor  Mr.  Chopstone  is  not  a  millionaire, 
and  Mrs.  Clary  says  it  proves,  too,  that 
it  was  a  real  diamond. 

It  is  beginning  to  seem  like  a  pretty 
long  trip,  and  Mrs.  Clary  has  started 
packing  her  trunk.  The  little  flag  that 
marks  our  progress  across  the  chart  is 
making  Europe  in  great  jumps,  and  we 
are  all  glad.  Uncle  gets  more  restless 
every  day,  and  he  says  if  the  doctor 
don't  quit  coming  up  on  deck  to  talk 
to  Mrs.  Clary,  something  will  soon 
drop.  The  doctor  is  really  very  amus 
ing  ;  he-  says  the  first  officer  has  a  pet 
"  marmadillo,"  but  we  cannot  see  it 
because  it  is  too  anxious.  He  means 
"  frightened,"  it  seems.  Mr.  Edgar  is 
very  nice  ;  both  he  and  Mr.  Chopstone 
[18] 


With  Uncle  John 


are  going  to  Paris.  Lee  will  be  in 
Paris  by  Wednesday,  I  hope,  and  I  most 
sincerely  trust  he  will  keep  on  the  right 
side  of  Uncle. 

They  say  we  will  land  early  day  after 
to-morrow.  I  can  mail  my  letters  in 
Plymouth  to-morrow  evening.  Uncle 
says  he  's  going  express  hereafter ;  he 
says  no  more  dilly-dally  voyages  for  him. 

Tenth  day  out. 

WHAT  do  you  think  !  Uncle  took  me 
into  the  parlor  after  dinner  to-night 
and  told  me  that  he  was  n't  going  to 
Paris  with  the  rest.  He  says  he  did  n't 
come  abroad  to  scurry  around  like  a 
wild  rabbit,  and  that  he  's  going  to  stop 
in  Havre  for  a  day  or  two.  He  says 
Edna  and  I  had  better  stay  with  him, 


Seeing  France 

as  he  can't  think  of  our  traveling  with 
Mr.  Edgar  and  Mr.  Chopstone  alone. 
I  said,  "But  there's  Mrs.  Clary."  And 
he  said,  "Yes  ;  but  you  forget  Sibbilly." 
I  do  think  Uncle's  logic  is  so  remark 
able. 

Eleventh  day  out. 

EVERYBODY  is  getting  their  trunks  in 
from  the  baggage-room  and  running  to 
the  rail  to  look  at  ships.  Uncle  won 
the  pool  again  to-day ;  he  says  this  is  one 
of  the  pleasantest  trips  he  ever  made,  and 
he  shook  hands  with  M.  Sibilet  when 
he  met  him  on  deck  this  morning. 

Mrs.  Clary  is  awfully  upset  over  our 
staying  in  Havre,  and  she  says  if  Lee  is 
in  Paris  he  won't  like  it,  either.  We 
expect  a  mail  in  Plymouth. 

[20] 


With  Uncle  John 


Later. 

The  mail  came,  and  I  had  a  letter 
from  Lee.  He  is  going  to  Russia  for  a 
week,  and  he  folded  in  an  extra  piece, 
saying  to  give  Uncle  the  letter.  It  was 
a  funny  kind  of  letter,  but  of  course  it 
had  to  be  a  funny  kind  of  letter  if  I  was 
to  give  it  to  Uncle.  I  gave  it  to  Uncle, 
and  he  said,  "  Hum  !"  and  that  was  all. 
He  says  if  Mr.  Edgar  or  Mr.  Chopstone 
stay  in  Havre  he  '11  know  the  reason 
why.  I  do  think  Uncle  might  be  more 
reasonable.  Edna  has  been  crying.  She 
does  n't  want  to  stay  in  Havre ;  she 
wants  to  go  to  Paris  when  Harry  goes. 
Yours  with  love,  as  ever, 

YVONNE. 


[21] 


II 

UNCLE    JOHN     IN    ROUEN 

9    A.M. 

'^f  "W"  "TELL,  girls,  are  you  ready  to 
%/%/  get  up  and  out  and  set  about 
improving  your  minds  ?  I  've 
been  reading  the  guide-book  and  spill 
ing  my  coffee  with  trying  to  do  two 
things  at  once,  ever  since  eight  o'clock. 
But  what  your  Uncle  John  does  n't 
know  about  Rouen  now  isn  't  worth 
stopping  to  look  up  in  the  index. 
Why,  I  've  even  got  the  real  French 
twang  to  the  pronunciation.  It  's  Roo- 
ank ;  only  you  stop  short  of  the  *  n  ' 

[22] 


With  Uncle  John 


and  the  '  k,'  so  to  speak.  The  waiter 
who  brought  my  breakfast  showed  me 
how  to  do  it — said  he  never  saw  a  for 
eigner  catch  on  to  the  trick  so  quick 
before.  I  gave  him  one  of  those 
slim  little  quarters  they  have  here,  and 
he  was  so  pleased  that  he  taught  me 
how  to  say  *  Joan  of  Arc  '  for  nothing. 
It  's  Shondark — Shondark.  I  learned  it 
in  no  time.  Well,  come  on,  if  you're 
ready.  I  've  been  waiting  almost  an 
hour. 

"  I  declare,  but  this  fresh,  free  atmos 
phere  is  refreshing!  As  soon  as  you  get 
outside  of  your  bedroom  door  you  begin 
to  get  the  full  benefit  of  the  Conti 
nental  climate.  I  presume,  if  you  're 
poor,  you  get  it  as  soon  as  you  get  out 
side  of  your  bed  clothes.  Rather  a  me- 


Seeing  France 

dieval  staircase,  eh  ?    And  four  orange- 
trees  at  the  bottom   to  try  and  fool  us 


Rouen — Maison  du  XV  siecle 

into  feeling  balmy.      However,  I  don't 
mind    little  discomforts :  all  I  mind   is 

O] 


With  Uncle  John 


being  shut  up  on  a  ship  with  a  darned 
fool  like  that  man  Sibbilly.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  his  mother  was  his  wife,  after 
all.  I  could  believe  anything  of  him. 
I  did  n't  like  him. 

"  We  '11  go  to  take  in  the  cathedral 
first  ;  it  is  n't  far,  and  I  've  got  it  all  by 
heart.  Thirteenth  century  and  unsym- 
metrical — you  must  remember  that. 
There,  that  's  it  ahead  there — with  the 
scaffolding.  They  're  bolstering  it  up 
somewhat,  so  as  to  keep  on  hooking 
tourists,  I  presume.  The  biggest  tower 
is  the  Butter  Tower,  built  out  of  paid- 
for  permissions  to  eat  butter  in  Lent. 
Rather  a  rough  joke,  its  being  so  much 
the  biggest,  is  n't  it  ?  The  whole  cathe 
dral  's  lopsided  from  eating  butter,  so  to 
speak.  I  believe  it  's  the  thing  to  stop 


Seeing  France 

in  front  and  act  as  if  you  were  over 
come  ;  so  we  '11  just  call  a  halt  here  and 
take  in  the  general  effect  of  the  scaf 
folding. 

"  Now  we  '11  walk  around  the  whole 
thing.  I  have  n't  come  abroad  to  take 
life  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump  ;  I  've 
come  to  be  thorough,  and  I  want  you 
girls  to  form  the  habit  of  being  thor 
ough,  too.  What  I  did  n't  like  about 
that  fellow  Edgar  was  his  not  being 
thorough.  When  he  went  down  to 
look  at  the  ship's  machinery  he  only 
stayed  an  hour.  Now,  I  did  n't  go 
at  all ;  but  if  I  had  gone,  I  should 
have  stayed  more  than  an  hour.  Good 
job  of  scaffolding,  is  n't  it  ?  You  see, 
they  make  the  scaffolding  out  of  young 
trees  withed  together,  and  use  them 
06] 


With  Uncle  John 


over  and  over.  Economical.  Just 
about  what  you  'd  expect  of  Sibbilly. 
Those  gargoyles  and  saints  around  the 
top  stick  their  heads  out  pretty  inter- 
ested-like,  don't  they  ?  But  their  view 
is  for  the  most  part  blocked.  Now  this 
cheerful  old  jail  at  the  back  is  the  pal 
ace  of  the  archbishop.  I  wish,  young 
ladies,  that  you  would  note  those  little 
bits  of  high  windows  and  the  good 
thick  bars  across  them  as  illustrating  the 
secure  faith  that  the  dead  and  gone  arch 
bishops  had  in  their  loving  people.  I  '11 
bet  there  's  been  plenty  of  battering  and 
rioting  around  under  these  walls,  first 
and  last  ;  plenty  of  fists  and  sticks  and 
stones.  It  's  big,  is  n't  it  ?  Big  as  half 
a  block,  and  things  look  so  much  bigger 
here  than  they  do  at  home.  They  slide 


Seeing  France 

a  roof  up  slanting  and  cock  it  full  of 
little  crooked  windows,  and  you  feel  as 
if  you  must  tip  over  backward  to  take 
in  the  top.  I  vow,  I  don't  just  see  how 
it  's  done;  but — oh,  here  's  where  we 
go  in.  This  dark,  damp  little  stone- 
paved  alley  is  the  celebrated  '  Portail 
des  Libraires,'  so  called  because  those 
arcades  used  to  be  full  of  book-stalls. 
We  go  along  on  the  cobble-stones, 
throw  ourselves  hard  against  this  little 
swinging  door ;  it  creaks,  it  yields,  we 
enter — hush ! 

"  Great  Scott,  is  n't  it  big,  and  is  n't 
it  damp  ?  Will  you  look  up  in  that  roof  ? 
I  feel  solemn  in  spite  of  myself;  but, 
then,  feeling  solemn  is  no  use :  what  we 
want  to  do  is  to  find  some  one  to  open 
those  big  iron  gates,  for  the  most  of 


With  Uncle  John 


what  is  to  see  is  in  back  there.  Edna, 
you  ask  that  man  how  wre  can  get  hold 
of  some  other  man.  Well,  what  did  he 
say  ?  Said  to  ask  the  Swiss,  did  he  ? 
What  does  he  mean  by  that  ?  Is  it  a 
joke,  or  can't  they  trust  a  Frenchman 
with  their  old  relics  ?  I  've  been  told 
that  in  Japanese  banks  they  always  have 
to  have  a  Chinaman  to  handle  the 
money,  and  maybe  it  's  equally  the 
thing  in  a  French  cathedral  to  have  a 
Swiss  look  after  the  relics.  But  the 
guide-book  never  said  a  word  about  a 
Swiss  :  it  said  'fee,'  and  I  've  got  my 
pocket  full  of  them. 

"  Well,  wrhere  can  we  get  a  Swiss  ? 
I  should  think  he  'd  be  more  handy 
than  he  appears  to  be.  There  's  an 
other  man  looking  for  him,  too.  He — 


Seeing  France 


Great  Scott !  if  it  is  n't — no,  that  is  im 
possible.  Yes,  it  is  ! 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  is  your 
name  Porter?  Yes?  Robert  Porter — 
Bobby  Porter  that  went  to  the  Wash 
ington  School  ?  Bob,  do  you  remember 
me  ?  Well,  of  all  the  larks  ! 

"  Girls,  this  man  and  I  went  to  school 
side  by  side  for  eight  years,  and  he  's  the 
finest — my  nieces,  Bob.  That  's  Edna 
and  this  is  Yvonne,  and — you  don't  say 
he  's  your  son  ?  Did  n't  know  you 
ever  married.  Oh,  I  '11  take  your  word 
for  it,  of  course  ;  but,  I  say,  Bob,  you  've 
got  to  come  and  dine  with  us  to-night. 
You  must ;  I  won't  have  it  any  other 
way.  You  and  I  '11  have  to  just  sit 
down  and  overhaul  all  our  old  memo 
ries  together.  Do  you  remember — but 

[30] 


With  Uncle  John 


how  do  you  come  to  be  in  Europe,  any 
how  ;  and  what  liner  did  you  line  up 
on  ?  We  had  a  beastly  trip, — only  came 
from  Havre  last  night, — and,  by  the 
way,  how  in  thunder  can  we  get  hold 
of  the  man  who  opens  these  iron  gates? 
Everything  in  the  place  is  back  there. 

"  Is  that  a  Swiss — that  splendid  cir 
cus-chariot  driver?  Give  you  my  word, 
I  thought  he  was  a  cardinal !  How 
much  of  a  tip  is  that  much  gold  lace 
going  to  look  forward  to  getting  ?  I 
wTish  he  was  plainer,  somehow.  I  '11 
tell  you,  Bob ;  you  pay,  and  I  '11  settle 
up  later.  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  the 
gates  open;  I  felt  more  like  a  serpent 
shut  out  of  paradise  than  I  ever  ex 
pected  to  feel  in  all  my  life. 

"  Well,  now  we  begin.     Who  's  bur- 

[3-] 


Seeing  France 

led  here  ?  Henry  II  of  England,  eh  ? 
I  can't  read  Latin,  so  Henry's  virtues 
and  dates  are  all  one  to  me.  Which 
Henry  was  he,  anyhow — the  one  with 
six  wives  or  the  one  who  never  shed  a 
smile  ?  Either  way,  let  's  move  on. 
"  What  comes  next  ?  Richard  Coeur- 
de-Lion  —  petrified,  eh  ?  Oh,  only  a 
statue  of  him  ;  that  's  less  interesting. 
I  thought  at  last  I  was  looking  at  Rich 
ard  when  he  was  himself  again.  What 
is  our  Swiss  friend  hissing  about  ?  Heart 
buried  underneath  ?  Whose  heart  ?— 
Richard's  ?  Ask  if  it 's  his  bona  fide 
heart  or  only  a  death-mask  of  it  ?  Strikes 
me  as  a  pretty  big  statue  to  put  up  to 
a  heart,  don't  you  think,  Bob  ?  But 
come  on  ;  I  want  to  be  looking  at  some 
thing  else. 


With  Uncle  John 


"  So  this  is  the  tomb  of  the  husband 
of  Diana  of  Poitiers?  I  did  n't  know 
she  ever  had  a  husband — thought  she 
only  had  a  king.  I  've  never  been 
brought  up  to  think  of  Diana  of  Poitiers 
mourning  a  husband.  But  maybe  she 
did,  maybe  she  did.  They  say  you  must 
check  your  common  sense  at  the  hotel 
when  you  set  out  to  inspect  Europe,  and 
I  believe  it — I  believe  it.  It  's  a  nice 
tomb,  and  if  they  kneel  and  mourn  in  a 
gown  with  a  train,  she  certainly  is  doing 
it  up  brown.  However,  let  's  go  on. 

"Two  cardinals  of  Amboise  kind  of 
going  in  procession  on  their  knees  over 
their  own  dead  bodies — or  maybe  it  's 
only  hearts  again.  Well,  Bob,  the  Ref 
ormation  was  a  great  thing,  after  all, 
was  n't  it?  Must  have  felt  fine  to 

[35] 


Seeing  France 

straighten  up  for  a  while.  Stop  a  bit; 
the  guide-book  said  there  was  something 
to  examine  about  these  two — wait  till  I 
find  the  place.  Oh,  well,  never  mind ; 
I  dare  say  a  guide-book  's  very  handy, 
but  I  move  we  quit  this  damp  old  hole, 
anyway.  I  would  n't  bother  to  come 
again.  That  's  a  sad  thing  about  life, 
Bob;  as  soon  as  you  get  in  front  of  any 
thing  and  get  a  square  look  at  it,  you  're 
ready  to  move  on — at  least  I  am. 

"What  's  he  saying?  Well,  ask  him 
again.  Whose  grave?  Well,  ask  him 
again.  Rollo's!  What,  Rollo  that  was 
' At  Work'  and  'At  Play'  and  at  every 
thing  else  when  we  were  kids?  An 
other?  What  other?  Well,  ask  him. 
Rollo  the  Norman  ?  I  don't  see  anything 
very  remarkable  in  a  Norman  being  bur- 

[36] 


With  Uncle  John 

led  in  Normandy,  do  you,  Bob?  When 
did  he  die?  Well,  ask  him.  What  are 
we  paying  him  for,  anyway?  Died  about 
900,  eh!  And  this  church  was  n't  built 
till  four  hundred  years  later.  Where  did 
he  spend  the  time  while  he  was  waiting 
to  be  buried?  Well,  ask  him.  I  declare, 
if  I  could  talk  French,  I  bet  I  'd  know 
something  about  things.  You  are  the 
dumbest  lot!  Here  's  Rollo  lying  around 
loose  for  as  long  as  we  've  had  America 
with  us,  and  no  one  takes  any  interest  in 
where.  Is  that  the  tomb  he  finally  got 
into?  Clever  idea  to  have  it  so  dark  no 
one  can  see  it,  after  all.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  we  '11  be  impressed,  but  I  ain't. 
I  don't  believe  Rollo  's  in  there,  anyhow. 
"Come  on;  I  'm  tired  of  this  old 
church.  I  move  that  we  go  out  and 

[37] 


Seeing  France 

look  at  the  place  where  they  burned 
Joan  of  Arc,  or  something  else  that  is 
bright  and  cheerful.  What 's  he  saying  ? 
No,  I  don't  want  to  see  any  treasury; 
I  've  done  enough  church-going  for 
one  week-day.  Give  him  his  money, 
Bob,  and  let  's  get  out.  You  tell  us 
where  to  go  next;  you  must  know  ev 
erything,  if  you  were  here  all  day  yes 
terday.  I  want  to  see  that  doubie-faced 
clock  and  those  carvings  of  the  Field  of 
the  Cloth  of  Gold.  They  're  all  over 
in  the  same  direction. 

"Good  to  be  out  in  the  air,  eh?  I 
vow,  I  never  was  great  on  churches. 
What  boat  did  you  come  over  on?  Did 
it  roll?  Ours  rolled  and  pitched,  too. 
I  never  saw  such  a  rolling.  I  tell  you, 
Bob,  the  man  will  make  a  fortune  who 

[38] 


With  Uncle  John 


invents  a  level  liner.  I  used  to  try  and 
figure  on  how  to  hang  the  passenger  de 
partment  in  an  open  square,  so  it  could 
swing  free, — do  you  get  the  idea  ? — but 
I  don't  know  as  it  could  be  managed. 
I  was  trying  to  work  it  out  one  morn 
ing,  and  I  came  up  against  the  wash- 
stand  so  sudden  that  I  thought  I  was  cut 
in  two ;  the  next  second  I  went  backward 
so  quick  that  the  edge  of  the  berth 
nearly  amputated  my  legs ;  and  then  the 
whole  craft  arose  on  such  a  swell  that  I 
swallowed  half  my  tooth-brush.  You 
may  laugh,  Bob,  but  I  'm  not  telling 
this  to  be  funny;  I  'm  telling  it  for  a 
fact.  I  had  to  have  the  steward  in  to 
put  the  washing-apparatus  to  rights,  and 
I  asked  him  what  in  thunder  was  up 
outside.  He  was  standing  at  an  angle 

[39] 


Seeing  France 

of  forty-five  degrees,  looking  up  at  me 
where  I  sat  in  the  lower  berth,  and  he 
said,  'If  the  wind  shifts,  we  're  very 
likely  to  have  it  rough.'  Just  then  he 
took  on  an  angle  of  ninety-five  degrees, 
and  my  trunk  slid  out  on  his  feet  so 
quick  he  had  to  hop.  I  said:  'Have  it 
rough,  eh?  Well,  I  'm  glad  to  know,  so 
that  I  can  take  advantage  of  this  calm 
spell.' 

"So  that  's  the  clock!  Well,  it  's  a 
big  one,  surely — almost  as  wide  as  the 
street,  although  candor  compels  us  to 
own  that  the  street  is  about  the  narrow 
est  ever.  All  right,  I  'm  done;  a  clock 
is  a  clock,  and  one  look  in  its  face  always 
tells  me  all  I  want  to  know.  Come  on ; 
we  can't  stand  dilly-dallying  if  we  're  to 
get  through  Rouen  to-day,  and  I  must 

[40] 


"  'So  that  's  the  clock  !'  ' 


With  Uncle  John 


say  I  consider  a  day  to  a  town  as  quite 
enough  in  Europe.  I  know,  when  I 
was  young  and  traveled  for  wholesale 
shoes,  I  used  often  and  often  to  do  three 
towns  a  day  and  never  turn  a  hair.  I 
tell  you,  Bob,  when  I  was— 

"Is  that  the  fountain?  Hold  on;  we 
want  to  see  that!  The  guide-hook  has 
it  in  italics.  I  don't  see  anything  to 
underline,  though ;  looks  foreign  to  me. 
Come  on ;  we  've  got  to  be  getting  some 
where,  or  I  shall  feel  I  wras  a  fool  to  stop 
off  at  Rouen.  Not  that  I  'm  not  glad 
to  have  met  you  again,  Bob;  but  that 
could  have  happened  anywhere  else  just 
as  well,  you  know.  When  did  you  come 
over  ?  Last  year !  Great  Scott,  what  are 
you  staying  so  long  for?  I  bet  I  get 
enough  in  six  weeks;  I  feel  as  if  I  'd  got 

[43] 


Seeing  France 

pretty  close  to  enough  now.  Not  that 
time  ever  hangs  heavy  on  my  hands,  you 
know.  No,  not  by  a  long  shot.  I  'm 
the  kind  of  man  that  can  always  amuse 
himself.  Give  me  a  fair  show, — off  a 
ship,  of  course, — and  I  '11  defy  any  one 
to  get  on  better.  Take  the  day  we 
landed,  for  instance,  there  in  Havre, — 
rainy,  not  a  thing  to  do,  and  every  one 
else  off  for  Paris.  You  might  have 
looked  for  me  to  be  a  little  disgusted, 
naturally;  but  not  a  bit  of  it.  The  day 
went  like  the  wind.  We  landed  at  noon, 
I  slept  all  the  afternoon,  and  in  the 
evening  I  took  a  bath.  I  tell  you,  Bob, 
a  fellow  with  brains  can  get  on  any 
where.  I  never  know  what  it  is  to  feel 
bored. 

"  What 's  our  Goddess  of  Liberty  do- 

[44] 


With  Uncle  John 


ing  up  there?  What 's  that  Indian  bead- 
work  around  her  feet  for?  Who?  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  's  Joan  of 
Arc?  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  I  never  im 
agined  her  like  that.  But  what  are  the 
beads?  French  funeral  wreaths!  Great 
Scott!  do  they  keep  Charlemagne 
wreathed,  too,  or  is  five  hundred  years 
the  bead- wreath  limit?  Pretty  idea,  to 
put  up  a  fountain  where  they  burnt 
her — keep  her  memory  damp  at  all 
events,  eh?  What  's  the  moral  of  her 
train  turning  into  a  dolphin?  Just  to 
bring  the  mind  gradually  down  to  the 
level  of  the  fact  that  it  is  a  fountain,  after 
all,  I  suppose. 

"She  was  n't  burnt  here,  anyhow,  the 
book  said.  The  book  said  she  was 
burnt  farther  over.  Smart  people  here — 

[45] 


Seeing  France 

have  two  places  where  she  was  burnt, 
so  people  must  trot  through  the  whole 
market  if  they  try  to  be  conscientious. 
Look  at  that  woman,  with  her  bouquet 
of  live  chickens — novel  effect  in  chick 
ens,  eh,  Bob?  Strikes  me  it  was  an  en 
terprising  idea  to  burn  Joan  in  the  mar 
ket,  anyhow — good  business  for  the 
market.  Folks  come  to  see  the  statue, 
and  incidentally  buy  some  peanuts. 

"Well,  where  can  we  go  now?  I  say 
to  set  out  and  have  a  look  at  the  tower 
where  she  was  imprisoned.  Pulled 
down!  It  is  n't,  either;  it  's  starred  in 
the  book.  What  's  that?  This  tower 
named  for  her,  and  hers  pulled  down! 
Well,  there  's  French  honor  for  you 
again.  What  do  you  think  of  Sibbilly 
now,  Edna?  I  don't  want  to  see  the 

[46] 


With  Uncle  John 


tower  if  it  ain't  the  real  one.  I  want 
to  see  the  bas-reliefs  of  the  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold,  and  then  I  want  to  go 
back  to  the  hotel  to  lunch.  I  tell  you, 
this  sight-seeing  is  a  great  appetizer. 
The  more  old  ruins  and  burnings  I  look 
over,  the  hungrier  I  get. 

"  Is  this  the  place?  Makes  me  think 
of  a  sort  of  glorified  gate  to  a  wood- 
yard.  What  is  it,  now?  Well,  ask  some 
body  !  A  bank,  eh  ?  Are  those  the  famous 
bas-reliefs  ?  Those !  Them  !  Well,  well, 
I  must  say  the  touring  public  is  easy 
game.  They  're  all  worn  off.  What 's 
the  tin  overhead  for?  To  keep  the  rain 
from  damaging  them,  eh  ?  Pretty  bit  of 
sarcasm,  eh,  Bob?  Great  pity  they 
did  n't  think  to  put  it  four  or  five  hun 
dred  years  sooner.  I  don't  see  a  man 

[47] 


Seeing  France 

with  a  head  or  a  horse  with  a  leg  from 
here.  It  lacks  character,  to  my  idea. 
Let  's  go  home.  Come  on.  I  Ve  racked 
around  Rouen  all  I  care  to  for  one 
day." 


[48] 


Ill 


YVONNE   TO    HER    MOTHER 

Rouen. 

DEAREST    MAMA:     It'is 
midnight,    and    I    must     tell 
you     the     most     astonishing 
piece   of  news.      We    came   here  with 
Uncle  last  night,  and  all  this  morning 
we  were  out  with  him.     When  we  came 
home  and  unlocked  our  room  we  found 
Lee   sitting   by    the    window.      But    he 
does  n't  want  Uncle  to  know.      It  was 
fortunate  that  Uncle's  room  is  acjoss  the 
hall,  for  I  screamed.      We  could  n't  see 
[49] 


Seeing  France 

how  he  got  in,  but  he  says  that  he  has 
bent  a  buttonhook  so  that  he  can  travel 
all  over  Europe.  It  seems  he  never 
meant  to  go  to  Russia  at  all;  but  he 
does  n't  want  Uncle  to  know.  He  says 
he  thinks  Russia  is  a  good  place  for  Un 
cle  to  imagine  him  in.  We  had  such 
fun !  We  told  him  all  about  the  voyage 
and  all  about  Uncle.  He  says  M.  Sib- 
ilet's  mother  is  his  wife — he  married  her 
for  money.  He  says  he  's  a  painter. 
Lee  is  really  going  yachting,  but  he 
does  n't  want  Uncle  to  know.  He  is  n't 
going  for  a  while,  though;  and  he 
does  n't  want  Uncle  to  know  that, 
either.  While  we  were  talking,  Uncle 
rapped,  and  Lee  had  to  get  into  the 
wardrobe  while  Uncle  came  in  and  read 
us  a  lecture.  When  we  were  in  the 

[5°] 


With  Uncle  John 


cathedral  to-day  he  found  a  man  he  used 
to  know  in  school,  and  he  was  utterly 
overjoyed  until  he  saw  that  the  man  had 
a  son;  and  then,  of  course,  he  was  wor 
ried  over  the  son.  So  he  came  in  to 
night  to  tell  us  that  if  he  discovered  any 
skylarking,  he  should  at  once  give  up  a 
friendship  which  had  always  meant 
more  to  him  than  we  young  things  could 
possibly  imagine.  He  said  we  must 
understand  that  he  'd  have  no  sort  of 
foolishness  going  on,  and  at  that  the 
wardrobe  creaked  so  awrfully  that  Edna 
had  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  I  did  n't  know 
what  I  should  have  if  he  kept  on.  He 
did  n't  go  until  it  wras  high  lunch-time, 
and  I  was  afraid  Lee  would  have  to  stay 
in  the  wardrobe  until  he  smothered. 
When  Uncle  was  gone,  Edna  asked  Lee 


Seeing  France 

how  under  the  sun  he  kept  still,  and  he 
said  he  nearly  died,  because  so  many 
hooks  hooked  into  his  coat  and  he  had 
nothing  to  perch  on  except  shoe-trees. 
I  do  think  Lee  is  so  clever.  I  wish 
Uncle  thought  so,  too.  He  went  to 
his  room,  and  we  lunched  with  Uncle, 
Mr.  Porter,  and  Mr.  Porter,  Jr.;  and 
afterward  we  visited  the  church  of  the 
Bon-Secours  and  the  monument  to 
Jeanne  d'Arc.  She  stands  on  top,  her 
hands  manacled,  with  her  big,  fright 
ened  eyes  staring  sadly  and  steadily  out 
over  the  town  where  she  met  death. 
Uncle  admired  her  so  much  that  he 
tripped  on  one  of  the  sheep  that  are 
carved  on  the  steps,  and  after  that  he 
did  n't  admire  anything  or  anybody. 
We  got  back  about  five,  and  Lee  came 


With  Uncle  John 


in  for  a  visit  of  an  hour.  Lee  says  he 
had  a  fine  voyage.  It  stormed,  and  he 
says  he  never  was  battened  down  with 
such  a  lively  lot  of  people.  Uncle  came 
in  twice  while  he  was  there,  but  Lee 
has  the  wardrobe  by  heart  now,  and 
does  n't  take  a  second.  He  says  the  men 
he  's  going  yachting  with  are  great  sport, 
and  he  expects  to  have  the  time  of  his 
life.  I  do  wish  Uncle  liked  Lee,  so  that 
he  could  go  around  with  us  these  days; 
he  would  be  so  much  fun. 

We  are  going  to  Jumieges  to-mor 
row,  Uncle  says.  Lee  says  he  must 
take  the  early  train  for  Havre.  He  's 
just  been  in  to  say  good-by.  He  brought 
a  cherry-tart  and  his  shoe-horn,  and  we 
had  ours,  and  so  we  had  no  trouble  at 
all  in  eating  it. 

[53] 


Seeing  France 

It  has  raised  my  spirits  lots,  seeing 
Lee.  It  seemed  so  terrible  for  him  to 
go  off  to  Russia  like  that.  Uncle  spoke 
of  it  yesterday.  He  said  he  was  glad 
to  have  one  worry  off  his  mind  and  safe 
in  Russia.  The  wardrobe  squeaked 
merrily. 

Now  good-by. 

Love  from 

YVONNE. 


[54] 


IV 


YVONNE     TO     HER     MOTHER 

Rouen. 

DEAR  MAMA  :  Lee  is  gone. 
I  do  wish  he  could  have 
stayed  longer,  but  he  thought 
it  was  risky.  Uncle  John  was  sure 
he  smelt  cigarette  smoke  in  my  room, 
and  although  it  was  n't  true  at  all, 
Edna  cried  and  said  the  wardrobe 
was  getting  on  her  nerves,  and  Lee  said 
he  reckoned  he  'd  take  his  button-hook 
and  move  on.  We  had  an  awful  time 
bidding  him  good-by,  for  Uncle  came 

[55] 


Seeing  France 

in  three  times,  and  the  second  time  he 
had  lost  his  umbrella  and  thought  it 
must  be  in  our  wardrobe.  I  never  was 
so  frightened  in  all  my  life;  for,  you 
know,  if  Uncle  had  been  hunting  for 
his  umbrella  and  had  found  Lee,  he 
would  n't  have  liked  it  at  all.  Edna 
volunteered  to  look  in  the  wardrobe, 
and  I  know  I  must  have  looked  queer, 
for  Uncle  asked  if  I  'd  taken  cold. 
You  know  how  much  I  think  of  Lee, 
but  I  could  n't  help  being  relieved  when 
he  was  gone.  It  is  such  a  responsi 
bility  to  have  a  man  in  your  wardrobe 
so  much  of  the  time.  He  said  that  I 
must  try  to  steer  Uncle  toward  Brit 
tany,  because  he  '11  be  yachting  all 
around  there.  He  says  I  must  mark 
places  in  the  Baedeker  with  strips  of 

[56] 


With  Uncle  John 


paper.  He  says  that  's  a  fine  way  to 
make  any  one  go  anywhere,  and  that  if 
Edna  and  I  will  talk  Italy  and  mark 
Brittany,  Uncle  is  almost  sure  to  wind 
up  in  the  Isle  of  Jersey.  Lee  says  he 
wishes  he  'd  been  kinder  to  Uncle  in 
America,  and  then  he  'd  like  him  better 
in  Europe.  He  's  afraid  Uncle  will 
never  forgive  him  for  taking  him  bob 
bing  that  time  and  dumping  him  off  in 
the  snow.  It  was  too  bad. 

We  went  to  Jumieges  to-day.  Uncle 
found  it  in  the  guide-book,  and  we  took 
an  eleven-o'clock  train.  Mr.  Porter  and 
his  son  were  late,  and  just  had  time  to 
get  into  the  rear  third-class  coach. 
Uncle  was  much  distressed  until  we 
came  to  Yainville,  where  the  train 
stopped,  and  they  got  out.  Uncle 

[57] 


Seeing  France 

wanted  them  to  get  in  with  us,  and  he 
talked  so  forcibly  on  the  subject  that 
the  train  nearly  started  again  before  Mr. 
Porter  could  make  him  understand  that 
Yainville  is  where  you  get  off  for  Ju- 
mieges. 

I  do  wish  it  was  n't  so  hard  to  turn 
Uncle's  ideas  another  way  when  he  's 

got  them  all  wrong. 

i$ 
Yainville   has  a  red-brick    depot  on 

the  edge  of  a  pleasant,  rolling  prairie, 
but  there  is  a  little  green  omnibus  to 
hyphenate  it  with  Jumieges.  We  were 
a  very  tight  fit  inside,  for  of  course  we 
could  only  sit  in  Uncle's  lap,  and  he 
did  n't  suggest  it,  so  I  had  to  hold 
Edna  ;  and  Mr.  Porter  and  his  son 
knew  Uncle  well  enough  not  to  sug 
gest  taking  her.  I  thought  that  we 

[58] 


With  Uncle  John 


should  never  get  there  ;  and  it  was  so 
tantalizing,  for  the  country  became 
beautiful,  and  we  could  only  see  it  in 
little  triangular  bits  between  shoulders 
and  hats.  Young  Mr.  Porter  wanted 
to  get  out  and  walk,  but  Uncle  said, 
"  Young  man,  when  you  are  as  old  as 
I  am,  you  will  know  as  much  as  I  do," 
so  he  gave  up  the  idea.  I  do  believe 
we  were  cooped  up  for  a  solid  hour  be 
fore  we  finally  rolled  down  a  little  bit 
of  a  hill  into  a  little  bit  of  a  village, 
and  climbed  stiffly  out  into  the  open 
air. 

We  all  had  to  cry  out  with  won 
der  and  admiration  then,  it  was  really 
so  wonderful.  On  one  side  were  the 
hills,  with  the  Seine  winding  off  toward 
Paris  ;  and  on  the  other  side  was  the 

[59] 


Seeing  France 

wood,  with  the  ragged  ruins  of  the  ab 
bey-church  walls  towering  up  out  of  the 
loftiest  foliage.  Uncle  thought  we  had 
better  go  and  see  all  there  was  to  be 
seen  directly,  so  we  walked  off  down 
the  little  road  with  a  funny  feeling  of 
being  partly  present  and  partly  past,  but 
very  well  content. 

The  story  goes  that  one  of  the  ancient 
French  kings  took  two  young  princes 
of  a  rival  house,  crippled  them,  put 
them  on  a  boat,  and  set  them  afloat  at 
Paris.  They  drifted  down  the  current 
as  far  as  this  spot,  and  here  they  were 
rescued.  They  founded  a  monastery 
in  gratitude,  and  their  tomb  was  in  the 
church,  which  is.  now  in  ruins.  Later 
we  saw  the  stone,  with  their  effigies,  in 
the  little  museum  by  the  gate.  They 

[60] 


With  Uncle  John 


were  called  "  Les  Deux  Enerves,"  in 
reference  to  their  mutilation.  Uncle 
thought  the  word  meant  "  nervous," 
and  we  heard  him  say  to  Mr.  Porter, 
"  Well,  who  would  n't  have  heen,  under 
the  circumstances  ? >:  The  whole  of 
the  abbey  is  now  the  private  property  of 
a  lady  who  lives  in  a  nice  house  up  over 
back  beyond  somewhere.  She  built  the 
lodge,  and  also  a  little  museum  for  rel 
ics  from  the  ruins,  and  has  stopped  the 
wholesale  carrying  off  of  stones  from 
the  beautiful  remnants  of  what  must 
have  once  been  a  truly  superb  monu 
ment.  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  in  all 
my  life  see  anything  more  grand  or 
impressive  than  the  building  as  it  is  to 
day.  It  is  much  the  same  plan  as  the 
cathedral  at  Rouen,  only  that  that  has 
[6.] 


Seeing  France 

been  preserved,  and  this  has  been  long 
abandoned.  It  is  so  curious  to  think  of 
the  choir  which  we  saw  yesterday,  with 
its  chapels  and  stained  glass,  and  then 
to  compare  it  with  this  roofless  and  win- 
dowless  one,  out  of  the  tops  of  the  walls 
of  which  fir-trees — big  ones — are  grow 
ing.  You  don't  know  what  a  strange 
sensation  it  is  to  see  trees  growing  out 
of  the  tops  of  ruined  walls  the  founda 
tions  of  which  were  laid  by  Charle 
magne's  relatives.  Edna  and  I  felt  very 
solemn,  and  Uncle  was  quiet  ever  so 
long,  and  then  only  said,  ' '  I  vow ! "  The 
grass  is  growing  in  the  nave  and  tran 
sept,  and  the  big  carved  pediments  stick 
up  through  the  turf  here  and  there,  with 
moss  and  lichen  clinging  to  the  shadowy 
sides.  The  rows  of  pillars  are  pretty 

[62] 


With  Uncle  John 


even,  and  the  set  of  big  arches  above  are 
mostly  all  there  still.  There  were  a 
third  and  a  fourth  gallery  above,  and 
although  they  are  fallen  away  in  places, 
still  you  can  see  exactly  how  it  used  to 
be.  When  you  look  away  up  to  the 
fourth  tier  of  columns,  the  main  walls 
of  the  nave  are  still  soaring  higher  yet ; 
and  when  you  follow  the  sky-line  of 
their  vastness,  you  see  the  two  mighty 
towers  rising,  rising,  straight  up  toward 
heaven,  with  the  rooks  whirling  and 
circling  about  them  and  screaming  in 
the  oddest,  most  awfully  mournful  man 
ner.  I  'm  sure  I  shall  never  feel  the  same 
way  again,  not  even  if  I  live  to  be  a 
thousand  years  old  myself.  I  felt  over 
come  ;  I  felt  a  way  that  I  never  felt 
before.  I  don't  know  what  I  felt. 

[63] 


Seeing  France 

Uncle  was  delighted  ;  he  sighed  with 
satisfaction.  "  This  is  the  real  thing," 
he  said  to  Mr.  Porter  ;  , "  I  like  this. 
You  can  see  that  there  's  been  no  tam 
pering  with  this  ruin."  Mr.  Porter 
looked  up  at  the  sky  above  and  said  : 
"  I  should  say  that  there  had  been  con 
siderable  tampering  with  this  ruin.  I 
will  take  my  oath  that  the  whole  of  the 
little  town  yonder  was  built  with  the 
stone  taken  from  these  walls  and  those 
of  the  monastery  buildings." 

Uncle  is  getting  very  nervous  over 
Mr.  Porter,  Jr.,  because  he  walks  around 
with  Edna  so  much ;  so  we  were  not 
allowed  out  of  his  sight  during  the  visit, 
and  did  n't  explore  half  as  much  as  we 
wanted  to.  The  little  museum  was 
really  very  interesting,  and  had  the 
tombstone  of  one  of  Joan  of  Arc's 

[64] 


;/  1  ^ 

n 


' 


"There's  been  no  tampering  with  this  ruin" 


With  Uncle  John 


judges.  I  feel  very  sorry  for  Joan's  poor 
judges.  They  had  to  do  as  they  were 
bid,  and  have  been  execrated  for  it  ever 
since. 

We  came  home  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  Mr.  Porter  found  a  telegram  calling 
him  to  Brussels  on  business,  so  he  and 
his  son  said  good-by  hurriedly  and  took 
a  half-past-six  train.  Uncle  said  at  din 
ner  that  it  was  a  strange  thing  to  see 
how,  after  forty-five  years  of  seeing  the 
world,  a  man  could  still  be  the  same  as 
when  one  had  to  do  all  his  sums  for  him 
at  school.  We  absorbed  this  luminous 
proposition  in  silence,  and  then  Uncle 
looked  severely  at  Edna  and  said  that  at 
the  rate  that  things  were  progressing  he 
would  n't  have  been  surprised  to  have 
had  a  John  Gilpin  in  the  family  any 
day.  We  were  struck  dumb  at  this 

[67] 


Seeing  France 

threat  or  prophecy  or  whatever  was  in 
tended,  and  went  meekly  to  bed.  Edna 
had  a  letter  from  Lee  and  I  had  one 
from  Harry.  Lee  did  n't  dare  write  me 
and  Harry  did  n't  dare  write  Edna  be 
cause  of  Uncle.  But  they  each  sent  the 
other  their  love. 

Uncle  wants  to  go  to  Gisors  to-mor 
row. 

P.  S.  I  must  add  a  line  to  tell  you 
that  Mrs.  Braytree  and  the  four  girls 
have  arrived.  They  saw  Uncle  on  the 

J 

stairs  coming  up,  and  all  came  straight 
to  our  room.  They  landed  yesterday, 
and  had  a  real  good  passage,  only  Eunice 
fell  out  of  the  berth  and  sprained  her 
wrist.  She  has  it  in  a  sling.  They  had 
a  hard  time  arranging  about  the  dog,  as 
the  hotel  did  n't  want  him  in  the  rooms. 
[68] 


With  Uncle  John 


He  is  one  of  those  dogs  that  look 
scratchy  and  whiny  at  the  first  glance. 
Mrs.  Braytree  has  lost  her  keys,  so  she 
sat  with  us  while  the  hotel  people  got 
a  man  to  open  her  trunks.  She  says 
she  's  in  no  hurry  to  unpack,  for  she  had 
so  many  bottles  she  's  almost  positive 
one  cork  at  least  must  have  come  out. 
They  entirely  forgot  to  bring  any  hair 
pins  and  suffered  dreadfully  on  shipboard 
on  that  account.  They  had  trouble  with 
one  of  their  port-holes  too,  and  Mrs. 
Braytree  and  Uncle  are  both  going  to 
carry  crowbars  at  sea  hereafter. 

They  are  going  to  stay  here  a  week. 
It  's  so  nice  to  meet  some  one  from 
home ! 

Always  yours  lovingly, 

YVONNE. 


UNCLE   JOHN    EN   ROUTE 

Rouen. 

OME  ON,  girls,  this  is  quite  an 
expedition.  I  vow  I  shook  a 
little  when  Mrs.  Braytree  sug 
gested  coming,  too.  Seven  women  to 
one  man  would  be  too  many  for  comfort 
as  a  general  thing;  but  your  Uncle  John 
never  shows  the  white  feather,  so  I  only 
drew  the  line  at  the  dog.  Why  the 
devil  five  women  want  to  travel  with 
one  dog  and  eight  trunks  I  can't  see; 
but  if  I  was  Mrs.  Braytree,  I  'd  probably 
know  more  about  it.  Curious  little 
[70] 


With  Uncle  John 


creature,  the  cross-eyed  one,  is  n't  she? 
And  that  Pauline — always  wanting  to 
be  somewhere  else.  I  told  her  pretty 
flatly  at  dinner  that  if  she  could  n't  get 
any  more  fun  out  of  Rouen  than  by 
wishing  it  was  St.  Augustine,  she  'd  better 
have  stayed  in  New  York.  Anything 
but  these  fault-finders. 

"Well,  ain't  you  ready?  I've  sent  the 
luggage  along,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
we  ought  to  be  following  its  good  ex 
ample.  Lord  knows,  two  days  is  enough 
to  waste  in  an  old  hole  like  Rouen ;  I 
was  wondering  last  night  what  we  ever 
came  for,  I  never  was  so  cold  anywhere 
in  my  life,  and  sleeping  on  a  slope  with  a 
pillow  on  your  feet  is  n't  my  idea  of  com 
fort  at  nigjit,  anyhow.  I  don't  under 
stand  the  moral  of  the  scheme,  and  the 

[71] 


Seeing  France 

pillow  keeps  sliding,  and  I  keep  swear 
ing,  all  night  long.  Also,  I  can't  learn 
to  appreciate  the  joy  of  standing  on  a 
piece  of  oil-cloth  to  wash.  I  must  say 
that  one  needs  to  wear  an  overcoat  and 
ear-muffs  to  wash  here,  anyhow.  I  was 
dancing  under  the  bell-rope  and  ringing 
for  hot  water  a  good  half-hour  this 
morning.  I  'm  going  to  write  and  have 
the  asterisk  subtracted  from  this  hotel. 

"Well,  come  on,  if  you  're  ready. 
Whose  umbrella  is  that  getting  left  by 
the  door?  Mine?  I  vow,  I  didn't  re 
member  putting  it  down.  But  no  one 
can  think  of  everything.  Edna,  is  this 
soap  yours?  No?  Well,  I  just  asked.  I 
seem  to  have  left  mine  somewhere,  and 
it 's  live  and  learn.  Come  on !  come  on  ! 

"  Good    morning,    Mrs.    Braytree — 


With  Uncle  John 


Eunice  —  Emma — Pauline  —  Augusta. 
I  reckon  we  'd  better  be  hustling  along 
pretty  promptly.  The  train  does  n't  go 
until  five  minutes  after  the  time,  if  we 
don't  hurry.  It's  truly  a  pleasure  hav 
ing  you  join  us,  Mrs.  Braytree.  A  little 
excursion  like  this  makes  such  a  pleasant 
break  in  the  routine  of  sight-seeing,  I 
think,  and  these  quaint  old — there,  all 
get  out  now,  I  have  the  money.  I  '11 
take  the  tickets;  we  're  all  full-fare, 
aren't  we?  Or — rhow  old  is  the  little 
cross-eyed  one?  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs. 
Braytree,  but  I  had  to  know  in  a  hurry. 
"There,  come  on!  come  on  !  Squeeze 
through.  Se — ven  women  and  one  man. 
Hurry!  we  want  a  compartment,  here 
—no,  there.  Run,  Edna,  and  get  ahead 
of  that  old  lady  ;  here  's  two  umbrellas 

[73] 


Seeing  France 

to  throw  crossways,  and  then  you  can 
tell  her  there  's  no  room,  and  the  law 
will  uphold  you.  You  look  surprised, 
Mrs.  Braytree,  but  I  learned  that  little 
trick  corning  from  Havre.  I  tell  you, 
by  the  time  I  get  to  Paris  I'll  be  on  to 
every  kind  of  game  going.  I  learn  fast 
—take  to  Europe  as  a  duck  takes  to 
water,  so  to  speak. 

"Well,  we  're  off  for  Gisors.  Great 
pleasure  to  have  you  with  us,  Mrs.  Bray- 
tree  ;  no  more  work  to  steer  seven- 
Good  Lord!  there  aren't  but  six  here! 
Who  is  n't  here?  Edna's  gone!  What 
is  it,  Yvonne  ?  I  sent  her  ahead,  did  I  ? 
Oh,  so  I  did,  so  I  did.  And  of  course 
she  is  waiting  for  us.  Poor  child  !  I 
hope  she  's  not  worried.  As  soon  as  we 
get  out  of  the  tunnel  I  '11  hang  out  of 

[74] 


With  Uncle  John 


the  window  and  holler  to  her.  Very 
convenient  method  of  talking  to  your 
friends  aboard,  Mrs.  Braytree ;  only  I 
should  think  a  good  many  would  lose 
their  heads  as  a  consequence.  However, 
as  the  majority  of  the  heads  would  be 
foreigners',  I  don't  suppose  it  would 
matter  much  in  the  long  run. 

"Speaking  of  Gisors,  Mrs.  Braytree, 
it  's  really  a  very  interesting  place — ac 
cording  to  the  guide-book.  As  far  as 
I  'm  personally  concerned,  I  'd  be  will 
ing  to  take  the  time  to  go  there  to  learn 
how  to  pronounce  it.  The  workings  of 
the  mind  which  laid  out  the  way  to  speak 
French  don't  at  all  jibe  with  the  work 
ings  of  the  mind  which  laid  out  the  way 
to  spell  it — not  according  to  my  way  of 
thinking.  There  's  that  place  which 

[75] 


Seeing  France 

we  've  just  left,  for  instance, — *  Ruin  ' 
as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your — on  any 
body's  face, — and  its  own  inhabitants 
can't  see  it — pronounce  the  R  in  a  way 
that  I  should  think  would  make  their 
tongues  feel  furry,  and  then  end  up  as  if, 
on  second  thought,  they  would  n't  end 
at  all. 

"  Yvonne,  I  wish  you'd  hang  out  and 
see  if  you  see  any  of  Edna  hanging  out. 
I  declare,  this  is  a  very  trying  situation 
to  be  in.  You  don't  know  what  a  trip 
I  had,  Mrs.  Braytree,  trying  to  keep 
track  of  these  girls  ;  and  since  we  landed 
—well,  I  just  had  to  call  a  halt  in  Havre 
and  come  off  alone.  Curious  place, 
Havre,  don't  you  think  ?  See  any  one 
you  knew  there?  We  —  who  did 
you  say?  Why,  that  can't  be,  he's  in 

[76] 


With  Uncle  John 


Russia.  Yvonne,  did  n't  that  young 
reprobate  write  you  he  was  going  to 
Russia?  Yes,  I  thought  so.  Well, 
Mrs.  Braytree  says  she  saw  him  in  Havre. 

*  •/ 

Good  joke  his  not  knowing  we  were  in 
Rouen;  he  'd  have  been  down  there  in 
a  jiffy,  I  '11  bet  anything.  But  your 
Uncle  John  is  a  rather  tough  customer 
to  handle,  and  I  expect  that  young  man 
knows  the  fact,  and  so  thought  it  best  to 
give  Rouen  a  wide  berth.  Not  that  I 
have  anything  in  particular  against  young 
Reynolds,  only  I  don't  consider  that  any 
girl  could  be  happy  with  him.  And 
it 's  foolish  to  have  a  man  around  unless 
you  can  make  him  happy — I  mean  unless 
he  can  make  you  happy.  My  wife  was 
very  happy  up  to  the  time  she  developed 
melancholia — a  sad  disease,  Mrs.  Bray- 

[77] 


Seeing  France 

tree.  Yvonne,  I  wish  you  'd  hang  out 
and  see  if  you  can  see  anything  of 
Edna. 

"I  presume  this  is  as  good  a  time  as 
we  '11  have  to  study  up  a  little  on  Gisors. 
It  seems  to  have  been  the  capital  of  the 
Vexin.  I  should  n't  be  surprised  if 
'vex'  and  'vexing'  both  come  from  that 
country,  for  the  guide-book  gives  it  as 
always  in  hot  water.  The  French  and 
English  were  both  up  against  it  most  of 
the  time,  and  it  was  vexin'  with  a 
vengeance.  It  says  here  that  the  old  city 
walls  are  still  standing  and  that  Henry 
II  built  the  castle.  Is  n't  he  the  one  we 
peeked  around  in  Rouen?  Yes,  I  thought 
so.  It  says  that  there  's  very  little 
left  of  the  castle,  though.  I  must  say 
I  'm  always  glad  when  I  read  that  there's 

[78] 


'  This  is  as  ^ood  a  time  as  we  '11  have  to 
study  up  on  Gisors'  ' 


With  Uncle  John 


not  much  left  of  anything;  it  gives  me 
a  quiet,  rested  sort  of  feeling." 

Gisors. 

"Well,  here  we  get  out.  I  '11  swing 
down  first.  If  French  trains  were 
American,  they  'd  have  trapezes  or  ele 
vators  to — get — out — by.  Here,  give 
me  your  hand,  Yvonne — oh,  there  's 
Edna.  Well,  I  vow,  who  has  she  got 
—if  it  is  n't — Yvonne,  is  n't  that  that 
young  man — how  d'ye  do,  Edgar? 
Delighted  to  see  you  again.  Our  friend, 
Mrs.  Braytree,  and  all  the  others  are  her 
daughters.  Come,  Edna;  you  come 
with  me  while  I  check  this  trunk. 
Where  in  thunder  did  you  get  that  fellow 
from  ?  How  does  he  come  to  be  in 
Rouen  ?  Did  you  know  he  was  in  Rouen? 
Did  you  see  him  while  he  was  there? 
[81] 


Seeing  France 

I  declare,  I  never  will  travel  with  any 
women  again  unless  I  am  married  to 
them.  This  is  awful.  Don't  you  know 
I  'm  responsible  for  you  two  girls?  And 
I  send  you  ahead  to  get  a  compart 
ment,  and  you  find  Edgar — it  makes 
me  want  to  swear.  Say,  was  there 
any  one  else  with  you?  Worse  and 
worse.  I  was  afraid  there  was  some 
thing  wrong  when  we  kept  hanging 
out  and  you  never  hung  out  at  all. 
Well,  we'll  have  to  go  back  and  gather 
them  all  up.  Yes,  I  '11  be  polite  to  him ; 
but,  Edna,  I  hope  you  understand  dis 
tinctly  that  a  man  like  that  could  never 
make  any  woman — 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Braytree,  here  we  are 
again;  and  now  we'll  all  proceed  over 
Gisors.  Pretty  place,  don't  you  think? 

[82] 


With  Uncle  John 


Picturesque.  Did  you  ever  see  so  many 
canals — or  smell  so  many  ? — and  the  little 
cottages  out  of  another  century?  Packed 
roofs — green  trees — well-sweeps — I  like 
this;  I  'm  glad  I  had  the  sense  to  come 
here.  Edgar,  will  you  oblige  me  by 
carrying  that  cane  so  that  child  does  n't 
come  within  an  ace  of  catching  her 
mouth  on  it  every  other  second?  I  de 
clare,  Mrs.  Braytree,  I  wish  we  had  n't 
run  on  to  that  young  man.  Of  course 
he  's  a  nice  fellow  and  all  that,  but  young 
men  are  a  great  trial  when  you  have 
two — 

"  Let 's  turn  down  here.  Most  of  the 
streets  seem  to  be  canal  tow-paths.  I 
vow,  this  is  pretty.  I  could  settle  down 
in  a  place  like  this  and  live  till  I  died. 
What  do  you  suppose  the  people  here 
[83] 


Seeing  France 

do  to  amuse  themselves,  anyhow?  From 
the  way  they  look  at  us  with  their 
mouths  open  I  should  imagine  that  we 
were  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  great 
event.  And  if  that's  the  case,  they  must 
be  pretty  hard  up  for  sport.  Oh,  well, 
I  presume  it 's  enough  for  them  to  paddle 
about  on  the  green  waters  and  stir  up 
the  miasma — as  much  sense  as  foreigners 
have. 

"And  so  these  are  the  walls — ram 
parts,  I  mean.  Well,  they  're  fairly 
high.  Wonder  how  high  they  are, 
anyhow?  Edgar,  will  you  do  me  the 
courtesy  not  to  be  pointing  to  the  left 
with  that  cane  of  yours  when  I  turn 
suddenly  to  the  right  again  ?  I  beg  your 
pardon  for  seeming  heated,  Mrs.  Bray- 
tree;  but  he  really— 

[84] 


With  Uncle  John 


"Let  's  find  a  gate  and  go  in;  seems 
to  be  a  park  inside.  I  should  think  there 
was  '  little  left  to  be  seen  of  the  castle  ! ' 
I  don't  see  anything  at  all  of  it.  Maybe 
they  took  it  down  and  built  the  walls 
higher  just  to  fool  tourists.  Well,  I 
did  n't  come  to  Gisors  to  caper  about  in 
a  park ;  let 's  go  out  and  look  at  the 
church — the  guide-book  says  the  church 
is  worth  seeing.  I  think  there  's  some 
thing  very  touching  about  guide-book 
enthusiasm:  it  keeps  up  so  consistently 
right  through  to  the  end.  I  feel  as  if 
my  own  enthusiasm  was  most  run 
through  now.  I  don't  know  how  Paris 
will  affect  me.  Edgar,  if  I  trip  on  that 
cane  you  '11  have  to  pay  my  doctor's  bill. 
What  makes  you  handle  it  as  you  do, 
anyway?  I  like  to  see  a  cane  light  and 

[85] 


Seeing  France 

alert — not  one  that  drags  through  the 
world  in  the  style  of  yours.  To  judge 
from  your  cane,  I  should  say  you  had  n't 
been  in  bed  before  three  for  a  month. 
I  have  to  speak  sharply  to  that  fellow, 
Mrs.  Bray  tree;  he  is  about  as  wooden- 
headed  as  they  make.  Came  across  the 
ocean  with  us,  and  pestered  the  life  out 
of  me.  You  don't  know  what  an  ocean 
voyage  is  with  two  attractive  girls — I 
beg  your  pardon;  I  forgot  your  four. 
Dear  me!  we  were  speaking  of — yes— 
of  Gisors,  of  course.  I  vow,  I  'm  dis 
appointed  in  it  as  a  whole.  I  wish  we  'd 
gone  to  Les  Andelys  instead.  Les 
Andelys  is  marked  with  an  asterisk  in  the 
guide-book,  and  there  's  a  castle  there 
built  by  Cceur-de-Lion.  By  the  way, 

Mrs.  Braytree,  the  Coeur-de-Lion  itself 
[86] 


With  Uncle  John 


is  buried  in  Rouen.     Did  you  know  that  ? 

Nice  joke,  eh  ?  But,  dear,  dear,  if  there  's 

< 

no  castle  here  when  we  get  here,  per 
haps  there  'd  be  none  there  when  we  got 
there.  I  'm  beginning  to  look  upon 
Europe  as  a  confidence-game  ;<  I— 

"  Well  is  that  the  castle!  Great  Scott! 
but  it  must  have  been  big.  It 's  big  yet, 
and  the  book  said  there  was  very  little 
left  to  see.  I  'm  beginning  to  lose  faith 
in  that  book.  Picturesque  idea,  having 
the  park  hide  the  ruins  till  you  come  right 
smash  on  to  them.  Clever  people,  the 
French;  make  everything  put  the  best 
foot  foremost.  Fine  old  round  tower; 
nice  tumble-down  guard-chamber!  I 
like  this.  Let  's  go  around  the  other 
side.  Great  place,  eh?  Worth  a  trip  to 
see.  Edgar,  let  me  have  your  cane  to 

[87] 


Seeing  France 

point  with.      There,  do  you  see  that  old 

staircase?  Looks  Roman  to    me;   what 

# 

do  you  think  r  I  tell  you,  a  man  could 
write  an  historical  novel  out  of  old  ruins 
if  he  prowled  long  enough.  Come  on 
now;  let  's  meander  on  down  town  and 
look  at  the  church.  As  soon  as  I  look 
at  anything,  I  'm  always  ready  to  look 
at  something  else.  Let's  go  out  on  this 
side  and  go  back  to  town  the  other  way. 
Then  we  '11  look  at  the  church,  and  then 
we  '11  put  you  and  Edgar  on  the  train 
for  Rouen,  Mrs.  Braytree.  What  did 
you  say,  Yvonne?  He  is  n't  going  to 
Rouen?  Where  is  he  going?  To  Paris 
with  us !  Well,  well,  well !  all  I  can  say 
is,  I  do  admire  his  nerve.  I  never  in  all 
my  life  went  where  I  was  n't  asked,  and 

took  a  cane.      Now  don't  you  see  why 
[88] 


With  Uncle  John 


no  woman  could  be  happy  with  a  man 
like  that?  I  never  saw  the  beat.  I  tell 
you  frankly,  Yvonne,  I  don't  like  his 
ways  and  I  don't  like  him.  If  you  girls 
had  let  him  alone  on  the  boat,  he  'd  have 
let  us  alone  here.  I  declare,  my  day  is 
just  about  spoiled.  Your  mother  has 
trusted  you  girls  to  me,  and  I  have  n't 
drawn  a  quiet  breath  since.  I  did  take 
a  little  comfort  there  in  Rouen  ;  but  if 
I  'd  known  that  Lee  was  in  Havre, 
I  'd  have  been  on  thorns  even  there. 

"Well,  where  is  the  church?  Ask 
some  one.  What  did  she  say?  Down 
here  ?  Down  we  go,  then.  Ah,  I  sup 
pose  that  's  it  under  the  sidewalk.  Nice 
commanding  situation  for  a  church,  to 
grade  a  street  by  its  tower!  Why  don't 
they  put  in  the  guide-book,  'Street 

[89] 


Seeing  France 

commands  a  fine  view  of  the  roof?' 
There  is  n't  time  to  go  inside  unless 
Mrs.  Braytree  wants  to  miss  her  train, 
and  we  don't  want  her  to  do  that. 

"  This  is  the  street  to  the  gare,  and 
we  '11  run  right  along.  I  expect  we  can 
get  something  to  eat  there,  and  get  that 
1 130  train  for  Beauvais.  There  is  n't 
anything  in  Beauvais  that  would  interest 
you, Mrs.  Braytree;  but  there  's  a  church 
there  that  I  want  to  see.  The  guide 
book  says  that  Mr.  Ruskin  says  that  the 
roof  has  got  a  clear  vertical  fall  that  not 
many  rocks  in  the  Alps  can  equal ;  I 
don't  just  know  what  a  clear  vertical 
fall  may  be,  but  if  there  's  a  church  any 
where  near  as  high  as  an  Alp,  I  don't 
want  to  miss  seeing  it. 

"  There  's  the  clock.    You  just  have 

[90] 


With  Uncle  John 


time  to  get  aboard  comfortably.  Don't 
you  want  to  go  with  them,  Edgar  ? 
Well,  I  thought  maybe  you  might. 
Good-by,  good-by;  delighted  to  have 
met  you.  Good-by.  Oh,  yes,  of  course. 
In  Paris. 

"There,  they  're  gone,  darn  'em  ! 
Now  let  's  get  some  lunch.  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  collection  as  those  girls? 
It  must  have  been  a  bitter  pill  when, 
after  managing  to  assimilate  the  looks 
of  the  three  oldest,  the  little  one  ap 
peared  with  her  eyes  laid  out  bias.  Come 
in  here;  we  can  get  something  to  eat 
here,  I  don't  care  what;  but  I  want 
plenty.  Don't  lose  your  cane,  Edgar  ; 
life  would  n't  be  life  to  you  without  it, 
I  expect.  I  like  these  country  hotel 
entrances,  through  a  carriage-house  and 

[91] 


Seeing  France 

a  duck-yard,  fall  over  a  cat,  and  come  in. 
Tell  her  we  want  dinner  for  four,  and 
prompt.  You  put  that  in  good  forcible 
French  for  me,  Edgar,  and  I  '11  be  grate 
ful  to  you  till  I  die.  Let 's  sit  down. 
Let 's  eat." 

Beauvais. 

"Now,  young  people,  I  call  this  making 
a  day  count.  This  is  my  idea  of  getting 
about.  Breakfast  in  Rouen,  luuch  in 
Gisors,  Beauvais  for  a  sandwich,  and 
we  '11  dine  in  Paris. 

"What  time  is  it?  Three  o'clock. 
Well,  we  want  to  head  straight  for  that 
cathedral.  Seems  as  if  it  ought  to  show 
most  anywhere  over  a  little,  low  town 
like  this,  but  I  don't  see  it.  Ask  some 
one — ask  any  one.  Well,  what  did  they 


With  Uncle  John 


say?  Right  across  the  square.  Whose 
statue  is  that  in  the  middle?  Joan  of 
Arc?  Jeanne  Hachette?  Who  was 
Jeanne  Hachette?  Girl  who  captured 
nag  from  Charles  the  Bold,  eh  ?  Is  that 
why  they  called  him  'the  Bold'?  Sort 
of  sarcastic  on  his  letting  a  girl  carry  off 
his  flag,  I  should  consider.  Well,  when 
did  she  live  ?  Has  she  got  her  year  under 
her?  1492.  Seventy  years  after  Joan. 
I  should  n't  have  thought  she'd  have  in 
spired  other  young  women  in  this  part 
of  the  country  to  emulate  her. 

"  Do  we  go  up  here  ?  Ugh,  how  I 
hate  walking  over  cobble-stones!  Clean; 
of  course  they  're  clean.  I  did  n't  say 
that  I  thought  they  were  dirty.  I  said 
I  hated  to  walk  on  'em. 

"What's    that  chopped-ofF  creation 

[95] 


Seeing  France 

before  us?  Not  the  cathedral?  Well — 
I — vow  ! 


Beauvais 


"  Is  that  what  I — what  we — 

"  Where's  the  front  of  it  ?  What  did 

[96] 


With  Uncle  John 


happen  to  it  ?  And  what  was  Mr.  Rus- 
kin  thinking  of  when  he  compared  it  to 
an  Alp  !  I  don't  want  to  fall  off  of  any 
where,  but  I  'd  choose  the  roof  of  that 
cathedral  to  start  from  any  day  in  pref 
erence  to  the  lowest  Alp  they  make. 
'Clear  vertical  fall'  eh?  I  wish  I  knew 
what  that  meant. 

"  Well,  let  's  go  in.  Where  's  the 
door  ?  That  little,  unpretentious  one 
looks  feasible.  Come  on.  Well,  Edgar, 
are  you  coming,  too,  or  do  you  choose 
to  stay  outside  with  your  stick  ?  I  can't 
help  it,  Edna  ;  I  feel  irritated  at  his  be 
ing  here  at  all,  and  then  I  'm  naturally 
disappointed  over  this  church.  I  must 
say  the  biggest  thing  about  it  is  that 
blank  wall  stopping  up  where  they  left 
off.  This  is  the  kind  of  thing  I  've 
[97] 


Seeing  France 

come  several  thousand  miles  to  look  at, 
is  it  ?  Well,  may  as  well  go  in,  I 
suppose. 

"  So  this  is  in  the  inside  !  Fine  lot  of 
carpets  hung  up  to  try  and  cover  the  defi 
ciencies,  eh.? — High  roof, — funny  sort 
of  shock  you  get  whenever  you  look  to 
wards  the  front.  Sort  of  like  turning 
around  and  hitting  your  cane,  eh, 
Edgar?  Girls,* this  cathedral  was  begun 
in  i  1 80,  time  of  Henry  II,  and  they 
quit  in  1555  while  Bloody  Mary  was 
abroad  and  never  got  to  the  front  end 
in  the  four  hundred  years.  Well,  well ! 
dear,  dear  ! 

"  Come  on,  girls,  we  may  as  well  go 
out;  I  feel  like  going  to  the  station  and 
heading  for  Paris.  I  suppose  that  's  the 
next  move  in  the  game.  You  can  stay 

[98] 


-'  'What  's  that  chopped-oft"  creation  before  us?' 


With  Uncle  John 


here   as   long   as   you   like,  Edgar ;   we 
won't  hurry  you. 

"  Come,  Yvonne,  you  walk  with  me. 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  that 
young  man's  gall  ?  Your  friend  Lee 
could  n't  make  any  points  around  him. 
Just  hooks  right  on  to  us,  and  stays 
hooked.  I  declare,  if  I  carried  a  cane 
I  bet  I  'd  give  him  one  punch  he  'd  re 
member  long  after.  I  'd  sincerely  beg 
his  pardon.  I  did  n't  like  him  on  the 
steamer;  I  've  got  no  use  for  young  men 
of  his  stamp.  I— 

Gare  du  Nord,  Paris. 
"  So    this   is    Paris !      Now,    Edgar,     I 
have  one  favor  to  ask  of  you — will  you 
kindly    allow   me   to   manage   my   own 
affairs     while    you    manage    yours  ?     I 


Seeing  France 

know  just  what  to  do,  and  I  '11  take 
Yvonne  with  me  to  do  it.  You  can 
take  Edna  up  to  the  hotel.  Looked 
disappointed,  did  n't  he  ?  Counting  on 
endearing  himself  to  me  forever  by  his 
able-bodied  assistance,  I  '11  wager  ;  but 
I  don't  want  any  young  man  minding 
my  business.  Tell  that  blue  blouse  to 
take  these  checks  and  look  up  five 
trunks  in  a  hurry.  What  did  he  say  ? 
We  have  n't  got  to  overhaul  them  again 
here,  have  we  ?  Well,  I  am — I  cer 
tainly  just  am.  Have  we  got  to  hunt 
'em  up  ?  Where  ?  Well,  ask  him  ? 
Round  back  of  this  crazy  mob  ?  Well, 
tell  him  to  go  first.  What  's  this 
system  of  wildly  speculating  wheat-pits  ? 
Baggage-counters,  eh  ?  And  will  you 
look  at  the  baggage  !  Talk  about  your 
[102] 


With  Uncle  John 


'clear  vertical  falls!'  Those  trunks  on 
top  will  soon  know  more  than  Ruskin 
ever  did. 

"  Where  's  our  man  gone  ?  Yvonne, 
do  you  know  where  that  fellow  went 
to  ?  Well,  ask  some  one.  Look  out 
—that  baggage  truck  will  he  Jugger- 
nauting  right  over  you  before  you  know 
it.  Now,  where  is  the  porter  ?  I  call 
this  a  pretty  state  of  affairs — porter, 
valises,  and  trunk-checks  all  gone  to 
gether.  I  thought  you  were  watching 
him  or  I  would  have  done  so.  Do  you  sup 
pose  we  ought  to  speak  to  a  policeman  ? 
I  think  we  ought  to.  But  will  you  look 
at  the  trunk-unlocking  that 's  going 
on — good  as  a  play — look  how  mad 
that  old  lady  is;  hear  her  give  it  to  him 
in  good  English.  Guess  something  got 


Seeing  France 

broke  in  transit.  Keep  a  sharp  eye  out 
for  that  porter,  Yvonne.  Here  come 
some  more  trunks,  and  more,  and 
more  yet.  I  wonder  if  this  is  regular, 
or  if  we  've  struck  a  rush.  Where  is 
that  porter  ?  I  think  we  ought  to  be 
speaking  to  a  policeman,  don't  you  ? 
Here  's  a  choice  new  invoice  of  a  couple 
of  thousand  more  trunks ;  that  fellow 
will  never  be  able  to  find  ours,  I  know. 
Supposing  he  has  found  them  and  gone 
off  with  them  already.  Hey,  look 
at  that  lady  jumping  up  and  down ! 
She  sees  her  trunk,  I  '11  bet  a  dollar. 
Well,  I  'd  jump  up  and  down  if  I  could 
see  mine.  Yvonne,  I  really  think  we 
ought  to  speak  to  a  policeman.  Could 
you  give  a  description  of  the  man  ?  I 
only  remember  that  he  wore  a  blue 
[104] 


With  Uncle  John 


blouse.  Oh,  yes  ;  and  he  had  '  Com 
missionaire  '  across  the  front  of  his  cap. 
Hello,  here  are  nine  trucks  all  at  once, 
just  a  few  million  more  additions  to 
the  turmoil.  I  tell  you,  we  won't  get 
out  of  here  to-night,  I  don't  believe. 
I  vow,  I  wish  I  'd  given  the  checks  to 
Edgar,  as  he  suggested.  I  really  think 
we  ought  to  be  calling  a  policeman. 
Here  are  fourteen  trucks  all  loaded  to 
the  gunwales,  and  two  mass-meetings 
and  one  convention  of  tourists  all  at 
once.  Yvonne,  this  is  beginning  to 
look  serious  to  me  ;  I  think  that  really 
we  ought  to  call— 

"  Oh,  there  he  is  with  the  whole  of 
the  stuff  on  one  truck.  Good  idea ; 
smart  chap;  and  he  wasn't  so  very  long 
either,  considering." 


VI 


YVONNE    TO    HER     MOTHER 

Paris. 

DEAREST     MAMA:      Well 
we  are  arrived  !      It  is  Paris 
at   last !      But  I   thought  we 
should  surely   die   in  transit.       I  don't 
know  what  Uncle  would  have  said   if 
he  had  known  that  Lee  was  in  Rouen ; 
he   was    dreadfully    upset     over     Mrs. 
Braytree's    telling    him    that    she  saw 
Lee  in  Havre.      He  was  very  unreason 
able,  and  laid  it  up  against    Lee  that 
[108] 


With  Uncle  John 


Mrs.  Braytree  saw  him.  Just  as  if  Lee 
could  help  it. 

We  had  a  pretty  good  time  coming 
down,  only  Mr.  Edgar  came  up  and 
came  down  with  us,  and  of  course 
Uncle  did  not  like  that.  I  think  that 
Mr.  Edgar  came  up  to  come  down  with 
me  because  we  had  a  lovely  time  on 
the  steamer  coming  over  together,  but 
Uncle  hardly  gave  me  a  chance  to  speak 
to  him.  Uncle  seems  just  instinctively 
to  know  whom  Edna  and  I  want  to  talk 
to,  and  then  won't  let  us.  But  of 
course  I  'm  not  complaining,  for  it  was 
lovely  of  him  to  give  us  this  trip,  and 
we  're  enjoying  every  minute. 

We  arrived  last  night,  and  the  only 
drawback  is  that  Mrs.  Clary  is  n't  here. 
She  left  a  note,  and  M.  Sibilet's  wife  is 
[109] 


Seeing  France 

his  mother,  and  has  a  place  out  at  Neu- 
illy,  and  they  were  invited  there  for 
three  days.  She  will  be  back  to-mor 
row,  and  she  left  word  for  us  to  go 
straight  to  the  Bon  Marche  and  look  at 
the  white  suits;  so  we  did  so.  We  told 
Uncle  it  was  all  right  for  us  to  go  alone, 
and  he  had  just  gotten  his  mail,  so  he 
only  said  "Hum  !"  and  we  went.  Just 
as  we  were  taking  the  cab,  who  should 
we  see  but  Mr.  Chopstone.  It  was  so 
lovely  to  see  him  again,  and  he  got  in 
to  the  cab  and  went  with  us.  We  went 
to  the  Bon  Marche,  but  it  was  n't  much 
fun  with  a  man,  so  we  came  out  after  a 
little,  and  he  proposed  taking  the  Sub 
way  and  going  to  the  Trocadero.  Just 
then  we  met  a  man  that  Mr.  Chopstone 
knew,  and  he  had  red  hair  and  eye- 
[no] 


With  Uncle  John 


glasses.  Mr.  Chopstone  introduced  him, 
and  invited  him  to  go  along  ;  hut  he 
said  it  was  no  use,  hecause  it  was  the 
wrong  day  and  we  could  n't  get  in 
when  we  got  there.  By  this  time  we 
were  down  in  the  Subway,  and  Mr. 
Chopstone  suggested  that  we  go  to  the 
Bois,  so  as  not  to  have  to  go  back  up 
the  stairs  again.  While  we  were  talk 
ing,  the  train  came  and  went  in  a  terrible 
hurry,  and  we  got  aboard  in  between. 
After  we  were  off,  we  found  that  Mr. 
Chopstone  was  n't  on.  We  did  n't 
know  what  to  do,  because,  of  course,  it 
was  he  that  we  knew,  and  not  the  red- 
haired  man.  The  red-haired  man  said 
he  would  do  whatever  we  pleased,  and 
Edna  thought  we  had  better  get  right 
off;  but  I  thought  we  ought  to  go  right 


Seeing  France 

on.     We  did  n't  know  what  to  do,  and 
so  we  kept  on  to  the  Bois. 

The  Bois  was  just  lovely — all  auto 
mobiles  and  babies;  and  who  do  you 
think  we  met?  Betty  Burleigh.  We 
were  so  surprised,  for  I  thought  she  was 
in  California  for  her  lungs;  but  it  seems 
that  she  's  been  in  Dresden  for  her  music 
all  winter,  and  now  she  's  here  for  her 
clothes.  She  was  with  an  elderly  French 
lady,  and  I  don't  think  that  the  elderly 
French  lady  liked  to  have  her  stop  and 
talk  to  us.  I  thought  at  first  that  per 
haps  it  was  n't  proper  on  account  of  the 
red-haired  man,  but  in  a  second  I  saw 
the  real  reason.  Betty  glanced  around 
and  said,  "Oh,  Madame,  ou  est  Fakir?" 
Whereupon  the  elderly  French  lady 
looked  absolutely  terrified  and  tore 


With  Uncle  John 


madly  off.  We  had  quite  a  long  talk 
before  she  came  back  with  the  most 
awful  little  black  dog,  which  they  evi 
dently  had  no  string  to.  She  put  him 
down  and  began  to  look  displeased 
again,  and  Betty  just  glanced  about  and 
said  calmly,  "  Oh,  Madame,  ou  es 
Fakir?"  He  had  absolutely  vanished 
again,  and  the  elderly  French  lady  sort 
of  threw  up  her  eyes  and  rushed  wildly 
away.  The  red-haired  man  said,  "  Why 
don't  you  buy  a  chain  for  him?"  Betty 
shrugged  the  Frenchiest  kind  of  a  shrug 
and  said,  "f  don't  have  to  chase  him." 
The  red-haired  man  said,  "  I  should 
think  she  would  buy  the  chain  then  !" 
and  Betty  shrugged  a  much  Frenchier 
shrug,  and  said:  "I  would  n't  allow  it. 
While  she  is  running  after  him  I  can 


Seeing  France 

do  as  I  please/'  The  red-haired  man 
laughed.  Poor  madarne  came  panting 
up  with  the  creature  just  then,  and 
Betty  said  sweetly,  "Laissez-lui  courir," 
so  she  had  to  put  him  down;  but  I 
could  see  that  she  meant  to  keep  a 
sharp  eye  on  him.  Betty  wanted  us  all 
to  come  to  the  Palais  and  lunch  with 
her ;  but  of  course  we  refused,  because 
you  would  n't  have  liked  it,  and,  any 
way,  we  had  to  go  back  to  Uncle.  She 
wanted  the  red-haired  man  to  stay,  any 
how,  and  was  quite  put  out  when  he 
declined.  Just  then  two  men  in  an  au 
tomobile  came  up  and  asked  her  to  go 
and  see  the  balloon  ascension.  They 
did  n't  invite  the  elderly  French  lady, 
and  she  protested  about  "comme  il 
faut"  —but  Betty  said,  ''Quest  Fakir?" 


With  Uncle  John 


and,  if  you  '11  believe  me,  that  little 
beast  was  gone  again,  and  poor  madame 
dashed  off  in  pursuit.  Betty  made  short 
work  of  bidding  us  good-by  then,  and 
at  once  got  into  the  automobile,  and 
was  off. 

We  came  slowly  along  back  with  the 
red-haired  man,  and  at  the  Arc  de 
Triomphe  we  ran  into  Mr.  Chopstone. 
It  seems  he  went  a  station  too  far  be 
cause  he  met  some  people  he  knew  in 
the  car  behind  us,  and  he  says  we  must 
all  go  to  the  Chatelet  with  him  to-night 
to  make  up.  He  said  "Uncle,  too," 
so  we  accepted.  Then  we  took  a  cab 
and  came  back  to  the  hotel,  where  we 
found  our  beloved  relative  with  his  feet 
on  the  center-table,  reading  the  Paris 
"  Herald."  He  looked  over  the  top  at 
["5] 


Seeing  France 

us  and  announced  that  he  'd  "  done  the 
Louvre."  I  think  we  must  have  looked 
startled,  for  he  went  on  to  say  at  once  that 
he  knew  that  it  was  something  that  had 


We  found  our  beloved  relative 

got  to  be  done,  and  that  he  should  n't 
enjoy,  and  so  he  had  thought  it  best  to  go 
at  it  the  first  thing  on  the  first  morning 
and  get  it  off  his  mind  at  once.  He  was 
very  pleased  with  himself,  because  he 
[116] 


With  Uncle  John 


says  the  "Baedeker"  says  that  it  takes 
two  hours  and  a  half  to  walk  through, 
and  he  wras  only  gone  from  the  hotel 
two  hours  in  all.  Edna  asked  him  if  he 
spent  much  time  looking  at  the  pictures, 
and  he  said  :  "Young  lady,  if  you  'd  ever 
been  in  the  place,  you  'd  never  ask  that 
question.  Why,  the  whole  thing  is 
lined  with  pictures.  I  bet  I  dream  of 
gilt  frames  for  a  week." 

We  had  to  go  to  lunch,  and  Uncle 
doesn't  like  the  food  very  much;  he 
says  it  strikes  him  as  "flummery,"  and 
he  is  really  very  much  vexed  over  Mrs. 
Clary's  being  at  Neuilly.  Edna  is  vexed 
because  Harry  is  there,  too,  and  I  'm 
very  much  vexed  indeed  because  she 
thoughtlessly  gave  Uncle  the  letter  at 
lunch,  and  when  he  read  about  Monsieur 
["7] 


Seeing  France 

Sibilet's  wife  being  his  mother  he  was 
more  put  out  than  ever.  He  said  we 
could  look  out  for  ourselves  this  after 
noon,  as  he  had  to  go  to  the  bank.  Edna 
suggested  that  we  go  to  the  Louvre,  and 
he  said  yes,  that  would  be  wise,  because 
then  we  would  all  be  free  to  enjoy  our 
selves.  Uncle  speaks  of  the  Louvre 
exactly  as  if  it  were  the  semiannual 
siege  at  the  dentist's.  But  he  was  kind 
enough  to  offer  to  leave  us  there  on  his 
way  to  the  bank,  and  when  we  took 
the  cab,  he  arranged  with  the  cabman 
and  the  hotel-porter  exactly  what  the 
fare  was  to  be,  and  held  it  in  his  hand 
the  whole  way. 

Edna  and  I  were  mighty  glad  to  get 
to  the  Louvre  without  Uncle,  especially 
with  the  way  he   feels  to-day,    and    we 
[1.8] 


With  Uncle  John 


were  wandering  along  in  a  speechless 
sort  of  ecstacy  when  all  of  a  sudden  I 
heard  some  one  calling  my  name.  I 
whirled  around,  and  if  it  was  n't  Mrs. 
Merrilegs,  in  a  state  of  collapse  on  one 
of  the  red-velvet  benches.  We  went 
to  her,  and  she  took  hold  of  our  hands 
as  if  she  'd  been  our  long-lost  mother 
for  years.  She  looked  very  white  and 
tired  and  almost  ready  to  faint,  and  we 
sat  down  on  each  side  of  her  in  real 
sincere  sympathy,  and  she  held  our 
hands  and  told  us  how  it  was.  It 
seems  that  they  left  home  the  last  of 
last  month,  and  they  've  been  all  through 
the  British  Isles,  Denmark,  Holland, 
and  Belgium,  and  they  are  going  to 
finish  Europe  and  be  home  the  first  of 
next  month.  She  could  hardly  speak 
["9] 


Seeing  France 

for  tears.  She  says  Mr.  Merrilegs  made 
out  the  itinerary  helore  they  sailed  and 
that  they  have  lived  up  to  it  every  day 
except  just  one,  when  he  ate  some 
lobster  crossing  the  Irish  Sea,  and  they 
lost  a  day  that  night.  She  says  they 
drive  a  great  deal,  because  they  can 
hardly  walk  any  more,  and  that  she 
does  n't  believe  that  there  will  be  a 
museum  or  palace  in  Europe  that  they 
won't  be  able  to  say  that  they  have 
driven  by  when  they  go  home.  She 
said  they  had  come  to  the  Louvre  to 
see  what  pictures  they  wanted  for  their 
new  house,  and  that  they  never  meant 
to  take  more  than  twenty  minutes  for 
the  selection,  and  that  they  had  been 
there  an  hour  already.  She  felt  badly 

because    the    itinerary   had    them   visit 
[120] 


With  Uncle  John 


Notre  Dame,  the  Eiffel  Tower  as  high 
as  the  elevator  goes,  and  Versailles  this 
afternoon.  She  said  they  wanted  to 
try  and  call  on  the  American  consul, 
too,  to  ask  about  a  masseur.  She  said 
Mr.  Merrilegs  said  he  thought  if  they 
could  get  hold  of  a  good  masseur  and 
keep  him  right  with  them  that  they 
could  manage  to  rub  through  to  the 
end. 

Edna  and  I  felt  dreadfully  sorry  for 
her;  but  there  did  not  seem  to  be  any 
thing  to  do  except  look  sad,  and  we  did 
that  as  heartily  as  we  knew  how  until 
in  a  minute  or  two  Mr.  Merrilegs  hove 
in  sight  with  a  funny  little  Frenchman 
dancing  round  and  round  him.  Mr, 
Merrilegs  looked  almost  as  exhausted  as 
his  wife,  and  called  Edna  by  my  name 


Seeing  France 

and  me  by  hers.  His  wife  asked  him 
if  he  had  ordered  the  pictures,  and  he 
said:  "No;  I  have  n't  any  more  time 
to  waste  here.  I  've  given  Claretie  the 
paper  with  the  sizes  of  the  spaces 
marked  on  it,  and  he  's  to  go  through 
and  measure  till  he  finds  a  famous  pic 
ture  to  match  each  space."  Mrs.  Mer- 
rilegs  sort  of  nodded  faintly  and  said  : 
"But  we  don't  want  any  martyrs  in  the 
dining-room,  you  know,"  and  her  hus 
band  said,  "Yes,  yes,  he  understands; 
and  he  says  he  '11  find  a  Susanna  to  fit 
your  bath,  too."  Mrs.  Merrilegs  stood 
up  then  with  a  very  audible  groan,  and 
they  both  shook  hands  with  us  in  a  way 
that  quite  wrung  our  hearts.  Then  they 
limped  away  with  the  little  Frenchman 
["4] 


With  Uncle  John 


spinning  gaily  about  them,  and  we  went 
on  alone. 

In  the  very  next  room  we  met  Mr. 
Chopstone.  He  was  awfully  glad  to  see 
us,  and  said,  with  our  permission,  he  'd 
join  us;  but  as  he  seemed  joined  any 
way,  we  did  n't  even  dream  of  refusing. 
He  asked  if  we  'd  told  Uncle  about 
the  Chatelet,  and  then  we  remembered 
that  we  had  forgotten.  He  said  he  was 
so  glad,  because  he  could  n't  get  any 
seats  except  baignoirs,  and  they  looked 
queer,  because  no  one  can  see  you.  He 
asked  if  we  would  like  to  go  to  the  opera 
instead,  and  we  were  just  discuscing  it 
when  we  turned  a  corner  and  ran  right 
on  to  Betty  Burleigh  and  the  red-haired 
man.  His  name  is  Potter,  and,  did  you 


Seeing  France 

ever  !  They  looked  so  upset  that  it  can't 
have  been  an  accident,  their  being  to 
gether.  But  how  could  they  have  ar 
ranged  it  ?  If  they  did  n't  arrange  it, 
why  did  they  look  upset  ?  Betty  had 
on  a  bright  green  cloth  dress  and  a 
violet  hat,  and  the  red-haired  man 
heightened  the  general  effect  so  much 
that  we  moved  on  as  quickly  as  possible, 
Mr.  Chopstone  said  very  roundly: 
"  You  'd  better  right  shy  of  her,  I 
think,"  and  Edna  said  dryly:  "  Of  him, 
too,  don't  you  think?"  I  waited  a 
minute,  and  then  I  said  it  seemed  droll 
to  think  that  if  we  were  all  English 
we  'd  be  pleased  to  call  poor  Betty  a 
typical  American. 

We    came  home  when  the   Louvre 
closed  and  found  Uncle  back  with  his 
[126] 


With  Uncle  John 


feet  on  the  center-table.  He  had  had  a 
big  fire  built,  for  he  said  it  gave  him  chills 
to  look  at  the  nymph  over  his  bed.  Pie 
had  put  in  a  true  Merrilegian  afternoon, 
having  been  to  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
Sainte-Chapelle,  Notre  Dame,  and  driv 
en  by  the  Hotel  de  Ville  and  around  the 
Opera  House — "completely  around." 
He  says  there  won't  be  a  thing  left  for 
him  to  look  at  by  Monday.  He  says 
if  he  was  pressed  for  time  he  'd  hire  a 
cab  tor  one  whole  day  and  lump  the 
business  ;  but  that,  seeing  that  we  have 

the  time,  it  really  does  n't  seem  neces- 

*J 

sary. 

The  mail  came  while  we  were  talk 
ing,  and  the  most  unfortunate  thing 
happened.  To  keep  up  the  Russian  idea, 
Lee  wrote  two  postals  and  sent  them  to 


Seeing  France 

St.  Petersburg  to  be  mailed.  Uncle  saw 
the  Russian  stamps  and  knew  Lee's 
writing,  and  he  asked  me  to  kindly  tell 
him  how  Mrs.  Braytree  came  to  see  a 
man  who  was  in  Russia  in  Havre.  Edna 
said  weakly  that  it  must  have  been  a 
joke,  and  Uncle  shook  his  watch  and 
held  it  to  his  ear  that  way  he  always 
does  when  he  's  dangerous,  and  said  he 
was  in  no  mood  for  any  of  Lee's  jokes. 
He  looked  very  severely  at  me  and  said 
that  Lee  was  a  scalawag,  and  that  I 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  myself  for  hav 
ing  him  around. 

Mrs.  Clary  will  be  back  to-morrow, 

and    we    're    very    glad,   for    Uncle    is 

awful    peppery    and    tartary,    and    says 

"Hum!"     when    we    least    expect    it. 

Edna   sent  Mr.  Chopstone  a  petit-bleu, 

[1*8] 


With  Uncle  John 

asking  him  please  not  to  ask  us  to  go 
anywhere  to-night.  Mr.  Edgar  sent 
me  some  violets,  but  I  had  time  to  give 
them  to  the  chambermaid  before  Uncle 
came  in.  If  I  only  geta  chance,  I  shall  ask 
Mrs.  Clary  to  declare  that  M.  Sibilet's 
mother  is  his  wife,  even  if  she  knows 
it  's  a  lie.  It  does  n't  seem  possible  that 
Uncle  could  really  care  for  Mrs.  Clary; 
but  he  's  so  cross  if  she  talks  to  any  one 
else  that  I  almost  wonder  if  he  does  n't. 
Edna  is  all  tired  out,  and  says  she  will 
cry  if  Uncle  tells  her  again  that  any 
man  is  n't  the  man  to  make  any  girl 
happy.  She  says  she  likes  men,  and  she 
thinks  that  they  all  make  her  happy. 
She  wanted  to  go  to  the  Chatelet  in  a 
baignoir,  and  she  was  wild  to  go  to  the 

opera  in  anything. 

[129] 


Seeing  France 

We  talk  Italy  and  mark  Brittany  every 
chance  we  get,  but  Uncle  says  "Hum!" 
to  Italy  the  same  as  he  does  to  every 
thing  else  these  days.  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
see  what  we  '11  do  if  he  takes  the  rest  of 
Europe  as  hard  as  he  does  this  much. 
But  of  course  I  don't  mean  that  we  're 
not  having  a  lovely  time,  and  we  never 
forget  for  a  minute  how  kind  he  was  to 
bring  us. 

Next  day. 

OH,   it   has  been   awful !     How   can   I 
write  it  all! 

You  see,  Uncle  has  a  little  balcony, 
and  the  sun  came  out,  so  he  did,  too, 
this  morning,  on  his  little  balcony. 
And  he  saw  Mrs.  Clary  being  brought 
back  in  an  automobile  by  M.  Sibilet  and 
two  French  officers.  Of  course  Harry 


With  Uncle  John 


was  there,  too,  but  that  did  n't  mend 
matters  any.  In  looking  over,  Uncle's 
glasses  fell  to  the  ground,  and  they  were 
his  comfortable  ones  with  the  rubber 
round  the  nose,  and  that  part  broke,  too. 
Edna  was  taking  a  bath,  and  I  had  to 
stand  the  brunt  of  the  whole.  Uncle 
told  me  not  to  dare  to  fancy  for  a  min 
ute  that  he  cared  who  Mrs.  Clary  went 
about  with;  but  he  did  wish  for  the 
credit  of  America  that  she  would  steer 
clear  of  men  like  Sibilet.  He  was  much 
put  out  over  the  French  officers,  too,  and 
said  that  if  he  was  a  French  officer  he  'd 
go  and  walk  around  Alsace  until  he  came 
to  his  senses.  While  he  was  talking  he 
knocked  the  water-pitcher  over,  and  then 
Edna  was  ready  to  dress;  so  he  went 
away  while  I  sopped  up  the  floor. 


Seeing  France 

Mrs.  Clary  came  in  right  afterward. 
She  has  had  a  splendid  time,  and  she  says 
she  does  n't  care  what  relation  the  old 
lady  is  so  long  as  she  can  have  them  for 
friends.  She  has  had  no  end  of  fun  since 
she  came  from  Havre,  and  she  says  it  's 
a  shame  about  Uncle.  She  went  to  a 
beautiful  lawn-fete  at  a  countess's,  and 
she  says  I  must  n't  worry  over  Lee  and 
Uncle.  She  rode  horseback,  too,  and 
drove  with  a  coach,  and  she  says  Edna 
must  remember  that  Uncle  is  always  pe 
culiar  and  does  n't  mean  half  he  says. 
She  went  to  two  dinner-parties,  and  no 
one  would  believe  that  she  was  Harry's 
mother.  She  says  I  ought  not  to  be  ex 
asperated  over  anything,  because  nothing 
in  the  world  can  be  so  exasperating  as 
having  a  son  with  a  moustache  when 


With  Uncle  John 


you  don't  look  thirty-five,  and  that  she 
does  n't  let  that  worry  her.  M.  Sibilet 
is  going  to  give  a  dinner  for  her  at  the 
Ritz,  and  she  's  going  to  get  a  lace  dress 
all  in  one  piece,  and  she  says  it  was  she 
who  told  Mr.  Edgar  that  we  were  com 
ing  from  Rouen,  and  that  Betty  Bur- 
leigh  is  considered  very  fast,  and  that  it 
won't  take  long  for  her  to  settle  Uncle. 
I  'm  sure  I  hope  so  with  all  my  heart; 
but  I  don't  believe  he  '11  like  the  idea 
of  the  dinner-party  much.  Mrs.  Clary 
says  Mme.  Sibilet's  chateau  is  a  perfect 
castle,  and  that  one  of  the  French  offi 
cers  in  the  automobile  was  a  duke.  She 
says  we  must  be  patient,  and  Uncle  will 
get  used  to  the  Continent,  just  as  all 
American  men  do.  She  says  they  never 
take  to  it  like  women,  though.  The 


Seeing  France 

other  French  officer  was  in  the  ministry 
once,  and  counts  more  than  any  duke. 
Mrs.  Clary  is  always  so  sweet  and  com 
forting,  and  she  is  such  a  nice  chaperon, 
because  she  always  has  men  enough  her 
self  never  to  be  spiteful. 

Mr.  Chopstone  sent  Edna  back  a 
fetit-bleu  that  he  had  the  box  at  the  opera, 
and  what  should  he  do  about  it.  Mrs. 
Clary  says  for  us  to  go.  She  says  she  '11 
take  care  of  Uncle,  for  she  wants  to 
straighten  out  her  accounts,  and  she  can 
just  as  well  straighten  him  out  at  the 
same  time.  She  gave  me  a  long  letter 
from  Lee  that  he  left  with  her,  and  she 
told  Edna  to  go  and  have  a  nice  walk 
with  Harry,  and  she  'd  tell  Uncle  they 
were  both  asleep  in  their  rooms.  I  de 
clare,  it  's  good  to  have  her  back.  I 


With  Uncle  John 


feel  as  if  a  mountain  was  lifted  off  me, 
and  on  to  her.  She  says  you  never 
dreamed  of  such  fun  as  she  's  had  out 
there  at  Neuilly,  and  that  it  's  quite  ab 
surd — my  worrying  over  little  things 
like  Lee  and  Uncle. 

She  talked  so  much  that  I  grew  quite 
light-hearted,  and  had  early  dinner  and 
went  off  to  the— 

I  '11  have  to  write  the  rest  to-morrow. 
A  boy  says  Uncle  wants  to  speak  to  me. 


Next  day. 

I  DO  believe  Lee  knows  better  how  to 
manage  Uncle  than  all  of  us  put  to 
gether  ! 

When  Uncle  sent  for  me,  I  saw  right 
off  that  Mrs.  Clary  had  n't  gotten  him 
['3*1 


Seeing  France 

anywhere  near  all  smoothed  out.  He 
looked  awfully  vexed,  and  he  told  me 
he  was  done  with  Paris  and  he  was  go 
ing  to  clear  out  at  once.  He  said  he 
knew  that  Edna  and  I  wanted  to  go  to 
Italy,  but,  unfortunately,  he  could  n't 
sec  it  himself  in  that  light.  Then  he 
paused  and  said  "Hum!"  and  I  waited. 
After  a  little  he  said  that  he  'd  hap 
pened  to  run  across  two  or  three  things 
lately  that  had  rather  interested  him  in 
Brittany,  and  how  would  I  like  to  go 
there.  I  was  almost  stunned  at  the  suc 
cess  of  Lee's  scheme,  and  I  was  so 
happy  that  I  suddenly  felt  as  if  I  wanted 
Mrs.  Clary  and  Edna  to  be  happy,  too, 
and  I  threw  my  arms  right  around  his 
neck  and  said:  "Oh,  Uncle,  let  's  go  off 
together — -just  you  and  me — and  have 


With  Uncle  John 


a  real  good  time  together,  all    by   our 
selves.      Will  you  ?' 

I  must  have  done  it  very  well,  for 
Uncle's  face  smoothed  out  at  once,  and 
he  told  me  that  he  'd  been  meaning  to 
give  me  Aunt  Jane's  watch  ever  since 
she  died,  only  that  it  needed  a  new 
spring,  and  he  never  could  remember  to 
take  it  to  the  jeweler's.  His  face  clouded 
some  later,  and  he  shook  his  head 
and  said  he  wished  he  felt  more  security 
as  to  Mrs.  Clary  and  Edna;  but  then 
he  crossed  his  legs  the  other  way,  and 
said  we  only  had  one  life  to  live,  and 
could  I  be  ready  to  start  by  day  after 
to-morrow.  I  said  that  I  was  sure  I 
could,  and  he  said  "Hum  !"  very  pleas 
antly,  and  I  went  to  my  own  room  and 
told  Mrs.  Clary.  She  was  so  pleased  ; 


Seeing  France 

she  says  I  am  a  saint,  and  that  it  's  too 
bad  for  me  to  miss  the  dinner.  She  is 
going  to  wear  her  pink  pearls,  and  she 
says  that  she  will  try  to  telegraph  Lee. 

I  will  confess  that  my  heart  sinks  a 
little  bit  from  time  to  time  when  I 
think  of  trying  to  bear  Uncle  all  alone 
for  I  don't  know  how  long;  but  I  have 
great  faith  in  Lee,  and  I  know  that 
he  '11  be  somewhere  along  the  coast, 
and  that  wrill  be  a  comfort. 

Uncle  has  been  out  and  bought  a 
Gaelic  grammar  and  the  history  of  the 
Siege  of  La  Rochelle,  for  he  says  he 
wants  to  have  some  intelligent  concep 
tion  of  what  he  sees.  He  wants  me  to 
learn  the  grammar,  and  he  says,  where 
he  sees  to  everything,  he  should  think 
I  could  do  a  little  trifle  like  that  for 


With  Uncle  John 


him  once  in  a  while.  When  he  put  it 
that  way,  I  thought  I  must  try;  but, 
oh,  heavens!  you  ought  to  see  that 
grammar! 

I  will  write  again  as  soon  as  I  can. 
Harry  is  going  to  take  us  all  to  the 
Cafe  aux  Fleurs  for  tea. 

Lovingly, 

YVONNE. 


VII 

MY  DEAREST  MAMA  :  We 
are  en  route!  We  left  Paris 
at  the  cheerful  hour  of  7 
A.  M.  yesterday  morning.  No  one  was 
up,  and  there  was  another  train  at  half- 
past  nine,  but  Uncle  said  that,  consider 
ing  the  work  that  lay  before  us,  we  had 
better  not  begin  by  dawdling.  I  do 
think  there  is  a  happy  medium  between 
rising  at  five  and  "  dawdling,"  but  of 
course  I  did  n't  tell  him  so. 

Edna  sat  up  in  bed  and  kissed  me 
good-by.  She  and  Mrs.  Clary  looked 
upon  me  as  a  cross  between  the  saver  of 

[HO] 


With  Uncle  John 


the  situation,  and  a  burnt  offering  on 
Uncle's  altar  ;  but  they  were  all  happy, 
and  I  did  n't  care — much. 

Uncle  mapped  out  the  route,  and,  as 
a  result,  we  got  down  at  Chartres  about 
half-past  nine.  He  put  the  baggage  in 
consigne,  and  then  looked  about  with  the 
air  of  a  charger  who  sniffs  the  battle  afar. 
I  stood  beside  him,  feeling  like  Maz- 
eppa  just  before  they  let  the  horse 
loose. 

The  outlook  from  the  station  is  not 
very  attractive,  and  the  first  thing  that 
Uncle  said  was  that  he  did  n't  believe  it 
was  worth  while  stopping  at  all,  and 
that  he  had  a  good  mind  to  go  on  with 
the  train  ;  but  just  at  that  instant  the 
train  went  on  by  itself,  so  we  did  not 
need  to  discuss  the  subject. 

[HI] 


Seeing  France 

You  see  there  is  a  high  ridge  that 
runs  in  front  of  the  station,  and  Chartres 
is  on  the  other  side.  Nearly  all  the 
towns  here  seem  to  be  quite  a  little 
ways  from  the  railway  stations.  Mr. 
Edgar  says  it  's  because  the  railroads 
run  after  their  passengers  in  Europe 
instead  of  running  over  them,  as  they 
do  in  America.  Uncle  says  it 's  very 
inconvenient,  anyhow,  and  he  pulled 
his  hat  down  hard  and  said,  "Well, 
let 's  have  a  look  at  the  cathedral,  any 
way." 

So  we  stormed  the  ridge  forthwith, 
and  spread  down  into  the  flat  country 
beyond.  As  we  descended  the  slope, 
Uncle  began  to  be  glad  he  had  come. 
Chartres  is  very  modest  and  mainly  one 
story  high,  so  the  Cathedral  towers 


With  Uncle  John 


aloft  in  a  most  soul-satisfying  manner. 
Uncle  said  it  was  "  Something  like." 
I  was  ever  so  glad  that  he  felt  so  be 
cause  he  said  in  Beauvais  that  some 
thing  he  had  read  had  led  him  to  ex 
pect  that  the  cathedral  there  would 
be  big  enough  to  hold  the  Bartholdi 
Statue  of  Liberty  in  one  of  its  niches, 
and  of  course  he  was  horribly  disap 
pointed,  as  a  consequence. 

We  walked  straight  to  the  cathedral, 
and  it  was  so  big  that  Uncle  thought 
we  had  better  each  take  one  side  and 
meet  behind,  "  so  as  to  save  time  and 
not  miss  anything."  I  acquiesced,  be 
cause  I  mean  to  keep  him  good-temp 
ered,  if  keeping  good-tempered  myself 
and  acquiescing  will  do  so. 

We    started   "  fair  "   in  front  of  the 

[143] 


Seeing  France 

middle  front  door,  and  I  could  hardly 
keep  a  straight  face  as  we  walked 
promptly  and  solemnly  off  in  opposite 
directions.  The  cathedral  is  enormous 
and  just  covered  with  carving,  and  I  was 
only  part  way  down  the  side  when  I 
saw  Uncle  coming  around  the  corner, 
swinging  his  umbrella  in  the  briskest 
sort  of  manner.  He  looked  absolutely 
disgusted  when  he  saw  me,  and  said  in 
the  most  injured  tone  imaginable, 
"You  must  have  been  stopping  to 
look  !  " 

He  would  n't  hear  to  my  continuing 
my  tour  of  circumnavigation,  so  we 
went  inside  at  once,  and  there  I  held 
the  guide-book  and  read  the  explana 
tion  while  he  kept  up  a  running  con 
tradiction  of  everything  I  read.  I  don't 
[J44] 


With  Uncle  John 


see  thegoodof  Uncle's  carrying  a  guide 
book,  for  he  says  they  need  n't  suppose 
he  does  n't  know  better  than  most  of  it. 
There  is  a  wonderful  carved  marble 
screen  around  the  altar,  and  a  sacred 
statue  with  a  yellow  satin  dress  on  ;  but 
being  inside  made  Uncle  want  to  be 
outside  right  away,  so  we  left  very 
quickly,  and  then  he  studied  the  Baede 
ker  just  long  enough  to  let  me  notice 
how  all  the  Roman  noses  on  the  kings 
and  saints  outside  had  been  turned  into 
Eskimo  noses  by  the  rains  of  centuries:; 
and  then  he  suddenly  shut  it,  and  said 
we  would  go  right  straight  off  then  and 
there  and  see  the  famous  enamels  that 
Diane  de  Poitiers  gave  Henry  II.  He 
explained  to  me  that  this  was  n't  the 
English  Henry  II,  but  the  French 
['45] 


Seeing  France 

Henry  II,  and  then  he  asked  me  which 
of  us  had  the  luggage-checks,  and  if  I 
had  noticed  whether  the  train  went  at 
eleven  or  half-past.  I  must  say  it  is 
like  doing  multiplications  in  your  head 
to  travel  with  Uncle,  but  of  course  I 
enjoy  it,  and  the  walk  to  St.  Peter's 
Church  was  very  pleasant,  through 
quaint  streets  and  along  by  little  canals 
like  those  at  Gisors. 

The  church  was  open,  and  open  in 
more  ways  than  one,  for  they  were 
tearing  up  the  whole  floor  to  put  in  a 
furnace  and  grave-stones  and  pick-axes 
were  leaning  up  against  the  columns 
everywhere.  There  was  n't  a  soul  to 
be  seen,  and  Uncle  was  so  happy  to  be 
able  to  poke  about  unconcierged  for  a 
while  that  I  sat  down  and  let  him 


With  Uncle  John 


desecrate  around  with  his  cane  until  he 
came  to  with  a  start  and  asked  me  what 
I  supposed  we  came  to  Chartres  for, 
anyway.  I  got  up  at  that,  and  we  went 
to  look  at  the  enamels,  which  are  in 
behind  a  locked  balustrade  and  have 
curtains  hung  in  front  of  them  besides. 
We  had  to  get  a  woman  to  unlock  the 
gate  and  draw  the  curtains  aside  and 
explain  which  enamel  was  which 
Apostle ;  and  uncle  was  very  much  put 
out  over  their  being  apostles  at  all.  I 
don't  know  what  he  expected  in  a 
church,  but  he  said  he  never  thought 
about  the  church ;  he  only  thought 
about  Diane  de  Poitiers.  He  says  he 
does  n't  think  it  was  in  good  taste  her 
having  anything  to  do  with  the  apostles, 
and  then  he  read  in  the  book  again  and 
[H7] 


Seeing  France 

found  he  'd  made  a  mistake,  and  it  was 
the  king  who  gave  them  to  her,  and  not 
she  who  gave  them  to  the  king,  and 
that  used  him  all  up,  and  he  said  he 
wished  that  he  had  never  come. 

I  saw  that  we  should  have  to  have 
something  to  eat  right  off,  so  I  said  I 
was  hungry  and  Uncle  said  that  was  just 
like  a  woman,  but  to  come  on.  We 
found  a  small  restaurant  and  had  a  very 
good  lunch,  and  then  Uncle  said  if  I  felt 
satisfied  he  would  take  it  as  a  personal 
favor  if  we  could  go  on  to  Dreux.  I 
do  wish  he  would  n't  put  everything 
just  that  way  when  I  really  have  n't 
done  anything;  but  he  looked  at  his 
watch  and  found  that  the  time  before 
when  he  had  looked  at  it  he  had  looked 

at  it  wrong  and  that  we  had  barely  ten 
[148] 


With  Uncle  John 


minutes  to  make  the  train.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  train  was  going  then,  but 
they  don't  go  until  ten  minutes  after  in 
France,  so  when  you  miss  a  train  you 
always  have  ten  minutes  left  to  make  it. 
We  took  a  cab,  and  Uncle  made  the 
man  understand  that  if  he  hurried  it 
would  pay;  so  we  galloped  madly  over 
the  ridge  and  just  got  aboard  in  time  to 
learn  that  Uncle  had  left  his  cane  in  the 
cab  and  that  we  'd  forgotten  our  luggage 
in  consigne. 

Of  course  the  ride  was  rather  gloomy, 
because  there  was  almost  no  way  to  lay 
the  blame  on  me;  but  after  a  while 
Uncle  asked  me  if  I  really  ever  did  see 
such  a  rank  idiot  as  M.  Sibilet,  and  he 
felt  better  after  that.  We  reached  Dreux 
about  two  o'clock,  and  I  telegraphed 
[H9] 


Seeing  France 


Dreux 


back    about    the    luggage   while   Uncle 
looked  up  a  train  for  Argentan  and  set 

[-50] 


With    Uncle   John 

hi-  watch  by  the  railway  time.  He 
told  me  that  the  train  that  he  had 
decided  on  lett  at  "104  and  that  we 
could  make  it  and  see  the  mausoleum 
"easv."  I  never  contradict  Uncle,  be- 
cau-e  it  doe-  n't  do  any  good  and  does 
upset  him  awfully,  so  I  went  with  him 
to  ?et  the  cab,  and  wondered  how  Ion? 
a  mausoleum  usually  took  to  examine. 

It  ^eems  that  there  are  no  cabs  in 
Dreux! 

I  thought  that  that  would  end  the 
mausoleum,  but  Uncle  merely  swept  his 
eyes  over  the  prospect  and  said  we  'd 
have  to  walk,  and  walk  pretty  prompt. 
It  was  2:10,  and  we  walked  fast.  The 
mausoleum  is  on  top  of  a  hill,  and  Uncle 
said  we  could  catch  our  breath  after  we 
to  the  top.  We  never  spoke  a  word 
t'5'J 


Seeing  France 

going  up.  I  knew  that  I  was  too  young 
to  die  of  heart-disease,  so  I  did  n't  care, 
if  he  did  n't. 

It  was  a  terrible  climb,  but  we  reached 
there  at  2 :  3  2.  It 's  the  mausoleum  of  the 
Orleans  family,  and  is  modern.  There 
is  a  concierge  who  takes  you  around,  and 
we  followed  him,  Uncle  with  his  watch 
in  his  hand  and  going  on  like  this: 
"  2 : 40 — tomb  of  the  king's  mother,  eh  ? 
Fine  old  lady!  2:41 — tomb  of  the  Due 
d'Aumale;  good  face,  handsome  decor 
ations  on  his  bosom,  stained-glass  win 
dows — all  made  at  Sevres,  eh?  2  143— 
etc.  You  can  imagine! 

But  what  you  can't  imagine  is  the 
sublime  and  peaceful  beauty  of  all  those 
exquisite  marble  people  sleeping  there 
under  the  slanting  rainbow  sun-rays  of 


With  Uncle  John 


the  magnificent  windows.  They  affected 
me  so  deeply  that,  in  spite  of  Uncle,  I 
could  hardly  keep  back  the  tears.  They 
did  n't  seem  living  and  they  did  n't 
seem  dead;  I  don't  know  what  they 
were  like — spirits  made  visible,  perhaps. 
The  Duchesse  d'Orleans  has  her  arm 
stretched  across,  so  that  it  touches  her 
husband,  who  was  the  eldest  son  of 
Louis  Philippe.  The  king  himself 
stands  upright  in  the  midst  of  them  all, 
and  Queen  Marie  Amelie  kneels  at  his 
side  in  a  beautiful  pose.  Two  precious 
little  babies  are  sculptured  together  on 
one  tomb,  and  all  the  while  we  were 
going  about,  the  place  resounded  with 
the  echoes  of  the  chisels  that  were  pre 
paring  a  place  for  the  Prince  Henry 
who  was  killed  in  Africa. 


Seeing  France 

I  could  have  stayed  there  hours, 
wrapped  up  in  the  mystery  and  wonder 
of  it  all,  but  Uncle  fell  down  some  steps 
while  he  was  looking  at  his  watch,  and 
we  departed  forthwith.  He  said  we 
must  walk  fast,  and  so  again  we  walked 
fast.  Of  course  it  was  easier,  though, 
going  down-hill,  and  I  said,  when  we 
were  near  enough  not  to  be  anxious 
any  more,  "It  was  worth  seeing,  was  n't 
it?"  To  which  Uncle  replied:  "Yes, 
if  you  enjoy  that  kind  of  thing;  but  all 
I  could  think  of  was  the  idea  of  spend 
ing  such  a  lot  of  money  on  statues  and 
then  not  having  any  cabs  at  the  depot." 

There  was  no  time  to  get  anything 
more  to  eat  at  the  moment,  so  I  just 
held  my  tongue  until  we  were  safely  on 
the  train  again. 


With  Uncle  John 


We  reached  Argentan  at  6:15  p.  M., 
and  I  felt  as  if  I  'd  been  running  Uncle, 
or,  rather,  running  with  Uncle,  for  a 
month. 

The  next  morning  we  were  called  at 
seven,  and  I  really  thought  that  I  could 
not  get  up  at  first;  but,  I  made  it  at  the 
third  try,  and  Uncle  and  I  were  out 
"seeing  Argentan"  at  eight.  At  half- 
past  he  declared  that  there  was  really 
nothing  to  see,  so  we  went  to  the  gare, 
and  he  bought  a  Paris  "Herald."  As 
we  were  sitting  there  waiting  for  the 
8 : 04  train  to  Couliboeuf,in  came  Elfrida 
Sanders  and  her  sister  with  bicycles.  I 
was  so  astonished,  and  Uncle  was  rather 
pleased,  too.  They  are  doing  Normandy 
on  wheels,  and  they  have  their  tools  and 
a  kodak  and  a  small  set  of  toilet-things 
[•55] 


Seeing  France 

and  four  clean  collars  all  tied  on  to  them. 
Elfrida  says  they  've  had  a  lovely  time — 
only  broken  glass  once,  and  rain  two 
days.  The  sister  is  going  to  write  a 
book  and  call  it  ''Two  on  a  Trot."  I 
think  that 's  a  funny  name  for  a  bicycle 
story.  Uncle  said  to  call  it  "Two  on  a 
Tire";  but  you  know  how  stupid  El 
frida  is,  and  so  she  said,  "Oh,  but 
it 's  not  a  tandem."  They  were  going 
to  Couliboeuf,  too,  but  we  could  n't  go 
together  because  they  were  traveling 
third-class.  Elfrida  says  they  are  seeing 
Europe  nicely  on  less  than  a  dollar  a 
day,  and  Uncle  said  "Great  Scott!" 

While  we  were  on  the  train  it  began 
to  rain  and  then  it  poured.  Uncle  be 
came  very  gloomy  and  said  that  is  just 
what  we  might  have  expected.  I 


"  Elfrida  says  they  are  seeing  Europe  nicely   on  less  than  a 
dollar  a  day,  and  Uncle  said  '  Great  Scott  ! '  ' 


With  Uncle  John 


did  n't  expect  rain,  and  I  did  n't  see 
why  I  should  have  expected  it,  so  I 
only  nodded.  Uncle  did  n't  like  my 
nodding,  and  said  I  should  n't  take 
such  a  pessimistic  view  of  life  at  my 
age.  While  he  was  talking  I  suddenly 
remembered  the  umbrella  and  asked 
him  where  it  was,  and  he  had  left  it  in 
Argentan  !  Then  there  was  no  more 
conversation. 

We  had  to  change  cars  at  Coulibo3uf, 
and  we  reached  Falaise  about  noon. 
Elfrida  and  her  sister  got  right  on  to 
their  wheels  and  bumped  gaily  away 
over  the  cobblestones  at  once.  The 
rain  was  over  and  the  sun  was  shining, 
but  Uncle  said  he  had  lost  all  faith  in 
France  and  wanted  to  buy  another 
umbrella  the  very  first  thing.  We 


Seeing  France 

went  to  a  store,  and  he  said  to  buy  a 
cheap  one,  as  I  would  be  sure  to  lose 
it.  I  asked  for  a  cheap  one,  but  the 


Falaise 


woman   was  quite    indignant    and    said 
that  she   did   not  keep  any   cheap  um 
brellas — that  the   lowest  she   had   was 
[160] 


With  Uncle  John 


two  francs — forty  cents.  I  had  to 
translate  it  to  Uncle,  and  he  was  so 
amused  that  he  bought  one  for  three 
francs  and  gave  a  franc  to  her  baby 
that  wras  tied  in  a  high  chair  by  the 
window. 

Then  we  took  a  cab  to  the  castle 
and  paid  the  man  at  the  entrance  and 
let  him  go.  There  is  a  lovely  sloping 
road  that  follows  the  curve  of  the  outer 
wall  up  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  and 
we  forgot  how  tired  we  were  in  think 
ing  how  pretty  it  was.  These  old 
castle  enclosures  are  all  so  big.  This 
one  contains  a  college  at  one  end,  and 
then  there  is  quite  a  wood  which  you 
must  walk  through  before  you  come  to 
the  castle  itself  at  the  other  end. 

The  castle  is  wonderful.      It  is  splen- 
[161] 


Seeing  France 

did  and  big  and  old  and  strong  and 
Norman.  It  is  built  out  of  the  red 
rock,  and  it  has  oubliettes  and  wells  and 
pits  and  towers  and  everything  of  the 
kind  that  heart  could  wish  to  see.  We 
saw  the  room  where  Prince  Arthur 
was  imprisoned  for  seven  years  and  the 
room  where  William  the  Conqueror 
was  born.  It 's  a  very  little  room  in 
which  to  have  had  such  a  wonderful 
thing  happen. 

Uncle  enjoyed  the  castle  immensely  ; 
he  took  the  deepest  interest  in  every 
inch  of  it,  and  when  the  concierge 
showed  us  the  window  from  which 
Robert  the  Devil  first  saw  Arlette,  he 
planted  himself  firmly  inside  it  and  I 
almost  thought  that  he  was  going  to 
stay  there  forever.  My  feet  ached  so 


"  Paid  the  man  at  the  entrance  and  let  him  go 


With  Uncle  John 


that  I  was  glad  enough  to  lean  up  any 
where  for  a  minute,  and  I  honestly 
believe  that  it  was  ten  before  he 
moved.  Then  he  gave  himself  a  little 
shake  and  said :  "  Well  to  think  of 
owning  this  place,  and  being  able  to 
stand  in  a  window  as  high  up  as  that 
one,  and  then  to  look  down  as  far  as 
that  well  is,  and  then  only  to  need  to 
say,  *  Bring  her  up  ! '  and  to  know  she  'd 
°;ot  to  come  !  Great  Scott !  No  wonder 

o 

their  son  conquered  England.  I  'm 
only  surprised  that  he  did  n't  wipe 
Europe  off  the  face  of  the  continent !" 
Then  he  shook  his  head  for  quite  a 
little  while,  and  we  got  under  way 
again  and  went  to  Talbot's  Tower. 

It  's  high,  and  Uncle  wanted  to  climb 
it.      I  did  n't  mind   his  climbing  it,  but 


Seeing  France 

he  wanted  me  to  climb  it,  too,  and 
some  one  was  ringing  the  bell,  so  the 
concierge  had  to  leave  us  and  go  back 
before  anything  was  settled.  Uncle  said 
it  was  rather  hard  when  he  was  doing 
so  much  to  try  and  finish  me  up  (he 
meant  "  finish  me  off,"  I  think),  for 
me  to  be  so  lukewarm  about  being 
finished  so  I  started  in  to  climb,  al 
though  my  knees  felt  like  crumpled 
tissue-paper.  1  The  steps  were  so  worn 
that  it  was  awful  work  and  Uncle 
would  go  up  as  far  as  anyone  could. 
He  had  the  umbrella  and  I  had  the 
candle  and  often  we  had  to  step  two 
and  even  three  steps  at  once.  When 


1  The  author  begs  the  reader's  lenient  consideration  as  to  this  de 
scription  of  Talbot's  Tower.  The  story  was  written  from  notes 
taken  five  years  ago,  since  which  time  the  tower  has  undergone  a 
thorough  restoration. 

[166] 


"The  coming  down  was  awful" 


With  Uncle  John 


we  came  to  the  place  where  the  steps 
ended,  he  stood  and  peeked  out  of  a 
window  (imagining  himself  Lord  Tal- 
bot,  I  reckon — )  and  then  we  started 
back.  The  coming  down  was  awful,— 
I  was  honestly  frightened.  Uncle  went 
first  and  I  stepped  on  his  coat  twice 
and  spilt  candle-grease  on  his  hat. 
Uncle  found  it  easier  coining  down 
than  going  up,  and  it  was  n't  until  we 
reached  the  bottom  that  we  discovered 
that  the  reason  why  was  because  he  had 
left  the  umbrella  behind  and  so  had 
two  hands  to  hold  on  by.  I  said, 
"  Never  mind,  it  only  cost  sixty  cents"  ; 
but  he  was  not  to  be  comforted,  and 
said  bitterly,  "You  forget  the  franc  that 
I  gave  her  baby."  I  would  have  gone 
back  for  it,  but  I  felt  so  hot  and  tired. 


Seeing  France 

We  came  to  Caen  this  noon,  and 
went  to  bed,  and  I  don't  believe  we 
shall  ever  get  up  again.  Uncle  said 
that  with  my  kind  permission  he  would 
suggest  that  I  should  not  disturb  him, 
and  heaven  knows  that  I  have  no  desire 
to,  I  telegraphed  Mrs.  Clary  about 
mail,  and  then  I  went  to  sleep  and  I 
slept  until  just  now. 

I  never  was  so  near  dead  in  all  my 
life ;  but  you  must  n't  think  for  a 
minute  that  I  'm  not  having  a  lovely 
time,  for  I  am,  and  it  was  so  kind  of 
Uncle  to  bring  me.  Now  good-by, 
and  with  much  love, 

Yours, 

YVONNE. 


VIII 

UNCLE    JOHN    PARALYZED 

COME   IN!    Come  on!    Well, 
don't  you  hear?       Can't    you 
understand  any — Oh,  it 's  you, 
child.      I   thought  it  was  one  of  those 
darned  waiters. 

"Sit  down;  pull  up  a  chair  by  the  bed. 
It  's  so  long  since  I  sent  for  you  that  I 
just  about  thought  that  you  were  not 
coming.  I  suppose  you  were  surprised 
at  my  sending  for  you ;  but  it  was  the 
only  way  to  do.  It  's  a  hard  thing  to 
break  to  you,  Yvonne;  but  you  'd  have 


Seeing  France 

to  know  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  I 
always  do  everything  right  off  that  I  've 
not  decided  to  wait  and  see  about.  Now 
don't  look  frightened,  my  dear;  no 
body  's  dead — it  's  only  that  I  'm  par 
alyzed! 

"There,  what  do  you  think  of  that? 
Yes,  it  's  true  for  a  fact.  My  legs !  I 
had  some  premonitory  symptoms  yester 
day  going  up  that  cursed  old  tower,  and 
I  had  some  very  advanced  ones  coming 
down  from  it;  and  this  morning,  when 
I  started  to  shave,  the  truth  just  burst 
in  my  face.  Now,  don't  try  to  say  any 
thing,  for  I  've  read  too  many  patent- 
medicine  advertisements  not  to  recognize 
paralysis  when  I  feel  it  up  and  down  the 
back  of  my  own  legs.  I  'm  not  the 
man  not  to  know  my  own  feelings,  and 


With    Uncle  John 


I  want  to  tell  you  that  when  I  got  up 
this  morning  I  could  n't  stand  up,  and 
then,  after  I  stood  up,  I  could  n't  sit 
down;  and  if  that  is  n't  a  clear  case  of 
having  completely  given  out,  I  don't 
know  what  you  would  call  it. 

"Now,  my  dear,  the  question  is, 
what  's  to  be  done?  Of  course  our 
travels  have  come  to  a  full  stop,  for  I 
shall  probably  never  walk  again.  The 
curious  thing  is  that  I  don't  feel  any 
particular  inclination  ever  to  walk  again. 
You  've  no  conception  of  the  sentiments 
that  I  feel  in  my  legs;  but  if  you  roll  the 
fatigue  of  a  lifetime  into  either  the  left 
or  the  right,  you  can  get  some  faint 
inkling  of  the  first  freshness  of  paralysis. 
I  tell  you,  Yvonne,  it  is  awful.  Every 
cobblestone  I  've  gone  over  seems  to  be 
['73] 


Seeing  France 

singing  in  my  calves;  but  that 's  neither 
here  nor  there.  What  I  want  you  to 
do  is  to  go  to  the  pocket  of  my  valise 
get  out  the  cable-code  book  and  look 
out  a  word  that  means  'Both  legs  par 
alyzed.  What  shall  I  do  with  the  girls?' 
You  '11  find  a  word  that  means  it,  if  you 
look  long  enough.  They  've  got  forty 
pages  of  words  that  mean  every  fool 
thing  on  earth  from  'It 's  a  boy'  to  '  Im 
possible  to  lend  you  ten  dollars.'  I  was 
reading  it  over  in  Paris  the  other  day 
while  I  waited  for  my  money  at  the  bank. 
"Well,  ain't  you  going  to  get  the 
code-book?  I  don't  want  to  be  impa 
tient,  but  I  want  some  one  to  be  doing 
something.  You  don't  know  how  rest 
less  it  makes  me  to  think  of  lying  still 
for  the  rest  of  my  life.  While  I  was 
['74] 


With  Uncle  John 

waiting  for  you,  I  was  thinking  that 
probably  I  shall  live  right  here  in  Caen 
till  I  die.  I  'm  very  glad  we  got  here 
too  late  to  see  anything,  because  now  I 
can  take  it  bit  by  bit  and  drag  it  out 
through  my  remaining  days.  I  shall 
have  a  wheeling-chair  and  a  man  to  push 
me  around,  and — well,  maybe  it  's  in 
the  little  outside  pocket.  I  know  I  had 
it  in  Paris,  anyhow;  I  remember  I  was 
just  reading  that  *  salsify'  means  'Your 
mother-in-law  left  by  the  ten  o'clock 
train,'  and  that  'salsifry'  means  that  she 
did  n't,  when  they  brought  me  my 
money,  and  I  was  free  to  go. 

"  Well,  now  you  've  got  it.  I  thought 
maybe  it  would  be  in  the  little  valise  all 
the  time.  Seems  to  me  the  sicknesses 
begin  with  'Salt.'  I  remember  'Salt- 


Seeing  France 

fish'  means  'have  got  smallpox;  keep 
away,'  and  'Saltpetre'  means  'have  got 
a  cold;  come  at  once.'  You  look  along 
there  and  find  'paralysis.'  I  '11  just  keep 
quiet  while  you  're  looking.  I  'd  better 
be  learning  to  keep  quiet.  Keeping 
quiet  must  be  the  long  suit  of  the  par 
alyzed,  I  should  fancy.  But  you  see 
what  it  is  now  to  be  an  optimist. 
Here  's  my  life  practically  over  all  of  a 
sudden,  and,  instead  of  being  blue,  I  'm 
as  cheerful  as  a  cricket.  No  need  of 
fussing  over  the  candle-grease  on  my 
hat  now,  for  I  shall  never  wear  a  hat 
again,  I  shall  wear  a  soft  felt  tied  over 
my  ears  with  a  plaid  shawl  as  they 
always  do  in  rolling-chairs;  as  for  the 
umbrella,  I  'm  actually  glad  I  left  it. 
It  would  only  have  been  an  aggravation 


I  'm  happy  that  it  will  be  out  of  the  question  for  me  ever 
to  travel  again  '  ' ' 


With  Uncle  John 


to  have  seen  it  lying  around.  But  all 
the  same  I  can't  see  why  you  did  n't 
notice  it  lying  down  there.  It  must 
have  been  in  plain  sight, — I  remember 
pointing  over  at  Mont  Mirat  with  it, 
and  saying  the  rock  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  dropped  there  from  above.  Yvonne, 
I  tell  you  when  I  think  of  all  we  did 
these  last  two  days  I  feel  perfectly  con 
tent  to  be  paralyzed.  I  'm  glad  to  think 
that  I  've  got  such  a  good  excuse  to  stay 
right  in  bed;  I  'm  happy  that  it  will  be 
out  of  the  question  for  me  ever  to  travel 
again.  I  feel  as  if  I  've  traveled  enough 
to  last  me  forever;  I  actually  don't  want 
to  see  anything  more.  No  more  catch 
ing  trains  and  climbing  castles  for  your 
Uncle  John — not  in  his  life.  You  can 
put  the  Baedeker  in  the  fire  right  now — 
[-79] 


Seeing  France 

I  never  want  to  see  a  red  cover  or  a 
green  string  or  an  index  again  as  long  as 
I  live.  What  's  that?  No,  I  sha'n't 
want  it  to  look  over  and  recall  things  by; 
I  can  recall  more  than  I  want  to  just  by 
the  way  I  feel.  I  don't  need  any  guide 
book  to  remember  what  I  've  been 
through  since  I  left  Paris.  I  remember 
too  much.  I  remember  so  much  that 
I  am  rejoiced  to  think  that  muscles  over 
which  I  have  no  control  will  prevent  my 
having  to  go  out  to-day  and  see  any 
thing  else.  It  seems  a  little  hard  to 
think  of  having  sight-seen  so  hard  that 
you  never  want  to  see  another  sight,  but 
I  'm  perfectly  content.  And  I  don't 
want  a  doctor,  either;  I  've  no  faith  in 
French  doctors.  It  would  be  just  like 

one  to  hypnotize  me  and  set  me  going 
[180] 


With  Uncle  John 


again,  and  I  don't  want  to  go.  I  want 
to  lie  right  here,  and  I  thank  the  Lord 
that  I  have  money  enough  to  allow  me 
to  lie  here  forever,  if  I  feel  like  it.  I 
was  thinking  this  morning  what  a  hor 
rible  existence  a  tramp  must  lead — al 
ways  going  on  to  new  places.  Thank 
Heaven,  I  can  just  settle  down  in  this 
old  one  and  stay  on  indefinitely.  I  want 
you  to  go  down  to  the  office  and  ask 
what  rate  they  '11  make  for  this  room 
by  the  year.  I  want  this  same  room 
right  along.  It  's  the  rirst  restful  spot 
I  've  struck  since  my  trunk  went  smash 
into  that  ship.  Yvonne,  did  you  notice 
the  way  they  handled  those  trunks  when 
we  landed — as  if  they  were  eggs  ?  I  tell 
you,  the  baggage  system  at  home  is  a 

burning  disgrace.      That 's  one  reason  I 
[181] 


Seeing  France 

like  Europe  so — it 's  quiet  and  peaceful. 
I  heard  some  goats  go  by  this  morning; 
I  'd  like  to  know  a  hotel  in  America 
where  you  can  listen  to  a  goat.  And 
then  that  wallpaper,  what  a  tranquil 
pattern — a  basket  of  sunflowers  upside 
down  alternately  with  a  single  palm  up 
side  up!  What  a  contrast  to  the  paper 
on  that  room  I  sailed  from!  It  looked 
more  like  snakes  doing  physical  culture 
than  anything  else. 

"  Yvonne,  I  was  thinking  it  all  over 
as  I  lay  here  this  morning  waiting  for 
you,  and  the  truth  is,  we've  been  travel 
ing  too  fast.  I  wanted  you  to  see  all 
there  was  to  see,  and  I  overlooked  my 
self  completely.  Don't  feel  badly, 
child,  because  I  know  you  never  meant 
it ;  but  it  is  the  truth,  and,  as  a  con- 


With  Uncle  John 


sequence,  here  I  lie  paralyzed.  Yes, 
we  've  been  traveling  too  fast.  It's  the 
vice  of  the  American  abroad  ;  it 's  the 
terrible  secret  drain  upon  the  strength 
of  our  better  classes.  We  come  over  to 
rest,  and  if  we  don't  do  two  countries 
a  week  we  feel  we  've  wasted  our 
money.  The  idea  of  leaving  Paris  in 
the  morning  and  doing  Chartres  and 
Dreux  and  getting  to  Argentan  that 
night  !  Why,  Hercules  himself  would 
have  been  used  up.  And  then  that 
castle  at  Falaise.  But  I  'm  not  sorry 
that  I  went  to  Falaise.  No,  I  'm  not 
sorry.  Yvonne,  there  was  something 
about  that  castle  that  I  '11  never  get 
over.  I  tell  you  those  were  the  days 
to  live  in  !  I  was  thinking  about  it 
while  I  was  waiting  for  you  this  morn- 


Seeing  France 

ing.  Will  you  consider  what  it  must 
have  been  to  put  on  a  suit  that  you 
could  n't  be  punched  through,  and  then 
get  out  with  an  ax  that  faced  two  ways 
and  have  full  freedom  to  hack  at  people 
you  hated.  I  tell  you,  child,  I  should 
have  been  one  of  those  who  barricaded 
themselves  behind  the  dead  bodies  they 
had  killed  and  kept  right  on  firing  over 
the  top.  And  to-day  my  armor  would 
be  hanging  up  somewhere  all  full  of 
dents  and  rusty  blood-stains,  and  I  'd  be 
a  sight  in  some  cathedral  with  your 
Aunt  Jane  wearing  a  funnel  and  an 
accordion  beside  me.  We  'd  both  be 
in  marble,  of  course,  some  worn  by 
time  and  some  chipped  by  tourists — ah, 
well ! 

"  Can't  you  find  anything  suitable  in 
[184] 


With  Uncle  John 


that  code-book  ?  Here,  I  *ve  been 
waiting  a  quarter  of  an  hour  for  you  to 
hunt — hand  me  the  book.  I  remember 
1  Shell  '  is  *  have  broken  my  left  leg,' 
and  '  Shell-fish  '  is  *  have  broken  my 
right  leg,'  and  '  Shawl  '  is — wait  a  bit 
—keep  still,  Yvonne  ;  no  one  in  the 
wide  world  can  study  a  code  and  listen 
at  the- 

"  Oh,  well,  I  '11  leave  it  till  to-night. 
Not  that  I  'm  irritated  at  your  inter 
ruption,  for  I  never  let  anything  ruffle 
me,  and  when  you  write  home  the 
first  thing  I  want  you  to  tell  your 
mother  is  that  being  paralyzed  has  not 
changed  me  one  particle.  Same  even 
disposition,  same  calm  outlook  on  life, 
same  disinclination  to  ever  bother  any 
one.  I  want  you  to  make  them  under- 


Seeing  France 

stand  in  particular  how  cheerful  I  am. 
Some  men  would  turn  cynical  at 
waking  up  paralyzed,  but  not  me.  I 
feel  as  if  I .  might  get  about  quite  a 
little  in  Caen,  maybe  even  get  to 
Falaise  again  some  time  ;  but  you  can 
bank  on  one  thing,  and  that  is  that  if  I 
ever  go  back  to  Falaise  I  won't  go  up 
that  tower  again.  I  was  wondering 
this  morning  as  I  lay  here  waiting  for 
you  how  in  thunder  you  were  holding 
that  candle  to  spill  so  much  grease  on 
my  hat.  You  can't  say  that  you  did  n't 
know  I  was  there,  for  every  second 
step  you  took  your  foot  hit  me  in  the 
small  of  the  back.  You  ought  to  have 
gone  first,  anyhow.  I  know  the  rule 
is  for  a  man  to  go  first  going  down  a 

staircase,  but  I  don't  call  that  business 
[186] 


With  Uncle  John 


we  were  on  any  staircase ;  it  was  more 
like  a  series  of  cascades  with  us  forming 
the  merry,  leaping,  part.  I  tell  you 
what,  Yvonne,  the  next  time  it 's  up  to 
your  Uncle  John  to  play  the  chamois 
that  springs  from  crag  to  crag  over  an 
old  middle-aged  staircase  while  his  niece 
pours  candle-grease  on  his  hat,  you  can 
excuse  me. 

''What  I  like  is  clean,  open-to-the- 
day-light  ruins  like  that  old  one  at 
Jumieges  !  No  peril,  no  anxiety — all 
on  a  level,  and  time  to  look  up  at  what 
was  n't.  I  tell  you,  I  would  n't  have 
missed  seeing  Jumieges  for  anything. 
I  was  thinking  this  morning  as  I  lay 
here  waiting  for  you  that  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  write  a  book  about  my  travels, 
and  that  when  I  do  I  shall  have  the 


Seeing  France 

frontispiece,  me  in  front  of  Jumieges. 
I  could  take  an  artist  down  there  on 
purpose,  and  while  he  was  n't  doing 
me,  I  could  look  it  all  over  again. 
Maybe  I  could  go  there  alone  with  a 
kodak  and  get  a  satisfactory  frontispiece, 
only  those  rocks  were  so  thick  that 
most  people  would  think  it  was  a  de 
fective  plate.  I  should  n't  like  to  have 
them  think  that,  for  if  I  was  going  to 
have  a  book  at  all,  I  should  have  it  in 
good  style — gold  edges,  bevel-plate,  and 
so  forth,  don't  you  knowr.  I  'd  like  to 
write  a  book  about  Europe,  I  vow.  I 
have  n't  been  here  very  long,  but  I  '11 
swear  I  know  ten  times  more  than  any 
book  ever  tells.  It  never  said  a  word 
in  Baedeker  about  there  not  being  any 

cabs   at  Dreux,  or  about  the  condition 
[188] 


With  Uncle  John 


of  those  steps  in  Talbot's  Tower,  and 
such  things  ought  to  be  known.  It 's 
all  right  to  make  light  of  perils  past, 
hut  those  steps  were  too  dark  for  me  to 
ever  make  light  of  in  this  world.  Up 
toward  the  top  where  we  had  to  sit 
down  and  stretch  for  the  next  one — you 
remember  ? — I  must  own  that  I  was 
honestly  sorry  I  came. 

"  Well,  my  child,  it  must  be  nearing 
noon,  and  I  feel  like  taking  a  nap  be 
fore  dinner.  Suppose  you  go  in  and 
write  to  your  mother  and  Mrs.  Clary. 
After  your  mother  gets  the  cable,  she  '11 
naturally  be  anxious  for  details,  and  she 
won't  want  to  wait  longer  than  ten 
days  to  know  all.  I  wish  you  'd  ring 
and  tell  them  to  bring  me  some  hot 
water  before  you  go;  tell  them  I  want 


Seeing  France 

it  in  a  pitcher.  Make  them  under 
stand  a  pitcher.  They  brought  it  last 
night  in  a  sort  of  brass  cylinder,  and  I 
could  n't  get  the  thing  open  anyway — 
had  to  use  it  for  a  hot-water-bag  in  bed 
in  the  end.  It  worked  fine  for  that. 
Never  cooled  off  all  night,  in  fact,  I 
could  n't  put  my  feet  against  it  till 
morning. 

"  There,  now,  you  go  on  and  leave 
me  to  sleep.  You  have  n't  the  faintest 
idea  of  how  used-up  I  feel.  Don't 
forget  to  write  your  mother  how  cheer 
ful  I  am  ;  don't  forget  the  hot  water. 
I  '11  send  for  you  when  I  want  you. 
There — there — I  'm  all  right,  child, 
don't  you  worry.  Just  pull  the  curtains 
and  let  me  sleep." 

[190] 


IX 


YVONNE    TO    HER    MOTHER 

Caen. 

DEAREST  MAMA :  Wearestill 
there,  and  I  'm  so  happy 
Uncle  is  in  bed,  and  at  first 
he  thought  he  was  paralyzed,  but  now  he 
says  he  's  only  refusing  to  take  chances. 
It 's  so  nice  having  him  in  bed,  because 
Lee  is  here,  and  Uncle  makes  it  all 
right  without  knowing  anything  about 
it.  It  was  yesterday  that  he  thought 
he  was  paralyzed  ;  he  sent  for  me  before 
I  was  awake  to  tell  me.  I  was  so 
dreadfully  stiff  and  lame  that  I  thought 


Seeing  France 

at  first  that  I  could  not  get  up  ;  but  of 
course  I  did,  and  went  to  him  as  soon 
as  I  could.  He  told  me  that  he  was 
paralyzed, really  paralyzed;  but  I  was  n't 
frightened,  because,  when  he  explained 
his  feelings,  I  knew  every  one  ot  them, 
and  of  course  I  knew  that  I  was  n't  par 
alyzed.  Only  when  he  rolled  around 
upon  his  pillows  and  said  he  certainly 
would  end  his  days  right  here  in  Caen, 
I  could  n't  help  wishing  that  he  had 
left  me  to  enjoy  my  pillows,  also. 

But  he  wanted  to  talk,  so  I  listened 
for  ever  so  long ;  and  then  he  wanted  to 
sleep,  so  I  came  away  to  write  you,  and 
there  was  a  note  from  Lee  in  my  room. 
He  was  down-stairs  waiting,  and  I  went 
right  down,  and  my,  but  it  was  good  to 
see  him  !  I  did  n't  kiss  him,  because  it 

[19-3 


With  Uncle  John 


was  a  hotel  parlor,  even  if  \ve  don't 
know  any  one  in  Caen  ;  but  I  told  him 
about  Uncle,  and  he  said  it  was  fine  and 
that  he  hoped  he  would  be  in  bed  a 
week,  but  no  such  luck.  The  yacht 
has  broken  a  thumb-screw,  or  whatever 
it  is  on  a  yacht,  and  they  have  all  come 
here  to  meet  some  automobile  people. 
Lee  looks  real  well ;  he  says  he  's  had 
no  end  of  fun  lately,  and  that  it  is  a 
shame  I  can't  go,  too. 

While  we  were  talking,  Mrs.  Cather- 
wood-Chigley  came  in.  I  did  n't  know 
that  she  was  in  Europe,  and  Lee  was 
dreadfully  put  out  for  she  sat  right  down 
and  asked  all  about  us.  Lee  explained 
that  he  was  here  with  a  yacht  and  that 
I  was  here  with  L'ncle  ;  but  she  did  n't 
seem  to  believe  us,  and  shook  her  head, 


Seeing  France 

and  asked  about  Mrs.  Clary.  She  said 
Mr.  Chigley  was  here,  too,  and  they 
have  seen  a  monument  in  the  cemetery 
here  that  is  just  what  they  want  for 
Mr.  Catherwood.  She  says  Mr.  Cath- 
erwood  was  so  clear-cut  and  Doric  in 
his  ideas  that  it  has  been  very  hard  to 
find  the  right  thing.  She  said  Mr. 
Chigley  was  out  making  a  sketch  of  the 
monument  then.  She  says  Mr.  Chigley 
is  devotion  itself  to  Mr.  Catherwood's 
memory,  and  cabled  a  beautiful  wreath 
on  his  wedding  anniversary  and  palms 
tied  with  purple  the  day  he  died.  She 
said  she  was  very  happy,  and  Mr.  Chig 
ley  just  loves  to  hear  her  tell  stories 
about  Mr.  Catherwood  by  the  hour. 
Lee  was  awfully  rude  and  kept  yawning, 
and  I  know  she  did  n't  like  it  by  the 


With  Uncle  John 


way  she  looked  at  him.  It  was  awfully 
trying  to  have  her  just  then,  because,  of 
course,  there  's  no  telling  how  long 
Uncle  will  stay  paralyzed.  We  really 
thought  she  would  stay  until  lunch-time, 
but  Lee  yawned  so  that  she  went  at  last. 
Lee  said  that  we  ought  to  join  them 
in  the  touring-cars  and  do  Brittany  that 
way,  but  he  did  n't  like  to  tackle  Uncle. 
He  says  Uncle  is  a  very  tough  propo 
sition,  because  he  is  so  devilish  observ 
ing,  and  he  never  begged  my  pardon  for 
saying  it,  either.  Of  course  Uncle 
brought  me,  and  I  must  do  as  he  wishes, 
but  I  do  wish  that  he  liked  Lee.  Lee 
says  he  wdshes  he  liked  him,  too  ;  he 
says  it  would  be  so  devilish  convenient 
just  now,  and  he  did  n't  beg  my  pardon 
that  time,  either. 

C'97] 


Seeing  France 

I  ran  up,  and  Uncle  was  still  asleep, 
so  I  had  lunch  with  Lee  at  the  table 


Caen. 


d'hote.  Mr.  Chigley  and  Mrs.  Cather- 
wood-Chigley  sat  opposite,  and  she  does 
look  so  funny  with  her  wedding-rings 
and  engagement-rings  alternating  on  the 


With  Uncle  John 


same  linger.  Mr.  Chigley  said  he 
should  call  on  Uncle,  and  Lee  and  I 
were  frightened  to  death  until  I  remem 
bered  that  Uncle  would  n't  be  able  to 
read  the  card  or  understand  the  waiter 
without  me.  After  luncheon  I  ran  up 
again,  and  Uncle  was  still  asleep,  so  we 
went  out  to  walk.  We  had  a  lovely 
walk,  and  never  looked  at  a  sight,  and 
when  we  came  back  I  ran  up  again, 
and  Uncle  was  still  asleep  ;  so  Lee  and 
I  sat  down  in  the  parlor,  and  we  were 
just  going  to  be  so  happy  when  Pinkie 
and  Bunnie  Clemens  came  in.  Well, 
really,  I  hardly  knew  either,  they  have 
changed  so,  and  Pinkie  has  a  beard  and 
Bunnie  is  over  six  feet  high.  They  are 
on  a  bicycle  tour  with  eight  men,  and 
they  saw  Elfrida  and  her  sister  yes- 
['99] 


Seeing  France 

terday,  headed  for  Bayeux.  Pinkie  says 
it  's  been  such  bad  weather  they  've 
had  to  tie  umbrellas  and  waterproofs  to 
them,  too.  He  says  Elfrida  looks  half 
witted,  and  her  sister  looks  like  a  full 
idiot.  I  was  so  glad  that  I  had  on  a 
Paris  frock.  They  wanted  me  to  go  to 
the  theater  with  them,  but  of  course  I 
could  n't,  for  I  could  n't  be  sure  about 
Uncle's  staying  paralyzed. 

He  slept  till  eight  o'clock  last  night, 
and  then  he  had  dinner  and  went  right 
to  sleep  again,  so  I  could  have  gone  to 
the  theater  after  all;  but  how  could  I 
know  to  dare  to  risk  it  ? 

Lee  and  the  men  from  the  yacht  are 
at  another  hotel,  so  he  did  n't  come  very 
early  this  morning,  and  it  was  fortu 
nate,  because  Uncle  sent  for  me  about 
[200] 


With  Uncle  John 


nine  to  explain  Mr.  Chigley's  card, 
which  they  poked  under  the  door  last 
night.  Uncle  was  so  curious  to  know 
what  it  was  that  he  got  out  of  bed  and 
found  he  could  walk.  He  said  he  had 
never  felt  sure  that  it  was  paralysis,  only 
he  wanted  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  and 
he  is  in  bed  still,  only  he  is  so  lively 
that  I  am  half  crazy  over  Lee.  If  Un 
cle  concludes  he  's  all  right,  and  comes 
down  and  finds  Lee,  I  know  he  is  n't 
going  to  like  it  at  all.  Pinkie  and  Bun- 
nie  have  gone  on  to  Mont  St.  Michel, 
and  the  Catherwood-Chigleys  took  the 
train  for  Dol  right  after  breakfast.  Mr. 
Chigley  was  very  sorry  not  to  see  Un 
cle,  and  Mrs.  Catherwood-Chigley  said 
she  should  write  you  all  about  how 

well  and  happy  I  was  looking.   I  know 

[201] 


Seeing  France 

that  what  she  really  means  to  write 
about  is  Lee ;  but  you  know  all  about 
him,  so  I  don't  care. 

Lee  says  if  there  was  time  he  'd  go  to 
Paris  and  get  a  nurse  and  an  electric-bat 
tery  and  have  Uncle  kept  just  comfort 
ably  paralyzed  for  a  few  more  days,  but 
there  is  n't  time,  and  I  am  so  worried. 
If  Uncle  loses  any  more  patience  with 
Lee,  he  won't  have  any  patience  left  at 
all,  and  I  '11  have  to  go  all  of  the  rest 
of  the  trip  that  way.  We  took  a  walk 
this  afternoon  to  consult,  and  we  saw 
Elfrida  and  her  sister.  They  have  cut 
off  their  hair,  because  it  bothered  them 
so,  coming  down  in  their  eyes,  and  El 
frida  says  she  feels  all  the  freedom  of  a 
man  thrilling  through  her — you  know 
how  funny  she  always  talks.  They  have 
[  202] 


With  Uncle  John 


seven  calloused  places  on  the  inside  of 
each  hand  from  the  handle-bars,  and 
Elfrida  says  she  's  sure  their  insteps  will 
arch  forever  after.  They  were  coming 
out  of  St.  Stephen's  Church,  and  the 
only  way  to  get  rid  of  them  was  to  say 
that  we  were  just  going  in  ;  so  we  said  it, 
and  went  in. 

It  was  really  very  interesting,  and  the 
tomb  of  William  the  Conqueror  is 
there.  He  built  St.  Stephen's,  and  Ma- 
thilde  built  La  Trinite  at  the  other  end 
of  the  town,  partly  as  a  thank-offering 
for  conquering  England  and  partly  as  a 
penance  for  being  cousins.  There  was 
a  monastery  with  St.  Stephen's  and  a 
convent  with  La  Trinite  until  the  Revo 
lution  changed  everything.  William's 
tomb  is  just  a  flat  slab  in  front  of  the 
[203] 


Seeing  France 

altar,  but  he  really  is  n't  there  any  more, 
for  they  have  dug  him  up  and  scattered 
him  over  and  over  again.  The  church 
is  tremendously  big  and  plain,  and 
every  word  you  even  whisper  echoes  so 
much  that  Lee  and  I  thought  we  'd  bet 
ter  come  out  where  we  could  talk  alone. 
When  we  came  back  to  the  hotel,  I 
ran  up,  and  the  mail  had  come  from 
Paris  ;  so  Uncle  said  if  I  'd  fill  his  foun 
tain-pen,  he  'd  just  spend  the  afternoon 
letting  a  few  people  in  America  know 
what  Europe  was  really  like.  I  'm  a 
little  bit  troubled,  for  I  'm  all  over  be 
ing  stiff  and  sore  from  that  climbing, 
and  yet  he  seems  to  feel  almost  as  mean 
as  ever.  He  has  his  meals  in  his  room, 
for,  although  we  're  on  the  first  floor, 

he  says  he  cannot  even  think  calmly  of 
[204] 


"  He  has  his  meals  in  his  room,  for  he  says  he  cannot 
even  think  calmly  of  a  stair-case  yet." 


With  Uncle  John 


a  stair-case  yet.  He  says  that  Talbot's 
Tower  seems  to  have  settled  in  his 
calves,  and  Heaven  knows  when  he  '11 
get  over  it.  Lee  says  I  ought  not  to 
worry,  but  to  make  the  most  out  of  the 
situation ;  but  I  do  worry,  because  Un 
cle  is  so  uncertain.  And  I  'm  perfectly 
positive  that  there  will  be  an  awful  scene 
when  he  finds  out  that  during  his  pa 
ralysis  I  've  been  going  all  over  with 
Lee. 

Lee  and  I  went  to  walk  this  after 
noon,  and  we  visited  the  old,  old  church 
of  St.  Nicolas.  It  said  in  the  book  that 
the  apse  still  had  its  original  stone  roof, 
and  Lee  said  it  would  be  a  good  chance 
to  learn  what  an  apse  was;  so  we  set 
out  to  go  there,  but  we  forgot  all  about 
where  we  set  out  for,  and  it  was  five 
[207] 


Seeing  France 

o'clock  before  we  finally  got  back  to 
where  it  was.  It  stands  in  an  old  ceme 
tery,  and  it  says  in  the  book  that  it 
has  been  secularized;  so  we  climbed  up 
on  gravestones  till  we  could  see  in  the 
windows  and  learn  what  that  meant, 
also.  The  gravestones  were  all  cov 
ered  with  lichen  and  so  slippery  that  in 
the  end  Lee  gave  up  and  just  helped 
me  to  look.  We  did  n't  learn  much, 
though,  for  it  was  only  full  of  hay. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  hotel,  I 
ran  up,  and  Uncle  was  gone  !  I  never 
was  so  frightened  in  my  life,  and  when 
I  ran  back  and  told  Lee,  he  whistled, 
so  I  saw  that  he  was  upset,  too.  He 
said  I  'd  better  go  to  my  room  and  wait, 
and  he  'd  dine  at  his  hotel  to-night;  so 
I  went  to  my  room,  and  Uncle  was 


With  Uncle  John 

there,  hunting  all  through  my  things 
for  the  address-book.  I  was  so  glad  and 
relieved  that  I  did  n't  mind  a  bit  the 
way  he  had  churned  everything  up,  al 
though  you  ought  to  see  my  trunk,  and 
I  kissed  him  and  told  him  it  was  just 
splendid  to  see  him  beginning  to  go 
about  again.  He  looked  pleased,  but 
he  says  the  backs  of  his  legs  are  still  be 
yond  the  power  of  description,  and  so  I 
proposed  having  dinner  with  him  in  his 
room,  which  we  did  very  comfortably, 
and  he  told  me  that  he  should  remem 
ber  this  trip  till  the  day  he  died,  with 
out  any  regard  for  the  grease  I  spilt  on 
his  hat.  After  dinner  he  was  very  fidg 
ety,  and  I  can  see  that  the  confinement 
is  wearing  on  him  ;  but  I  don't  know 
what  to  do. 
u  [  ^9  ] 


Seeing  France 

More  letters  came  by  the  evening 
mail,  and  Mrs.  Clary  is  so  in  raptures 
over  the  dinner  that  when  Uncle  asked 
me  if  I  had  heard  from  her  I  thought 
it  was  wisest  to  say  no,  because  I  knew 
that  if  he  read  how  happy  M.  Sibilet 
was  making  her,  he  surely  would  n't 
like  it  at  all. 

Lee  sent  me  a  note  by  a  messenger 
about  eleven  o'clock,  with  instructions 
in  French  on  the  outside  about  their 
delivering  it  to  me  when  I  was  not  with 
Uncle.  They  delivered  it  all  right, 
and  I  read  it.  He  just  said  that  the 
automobiles  had  come,  and  that  he  was 
going  to  cast  his  die  clean  over  the 
Rubicon  to-morrow  morning  at  eleven. 
That  means  that  he  is  going,  of  course, 
and  that  I  am  to  be  left  here  all  alone. 
[210] 


With  Uncle  John 


I  do  feel  very  badly  over  it,  for  Uncle 
will  be  almost  sure  to  find  out  about 
Lee  whenever  he  can  get  downstairs 
again,  and  then  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know 
what  will  happen.  Of  course  I  've  not 
done  anything  that  I  should  n't  have 
done ;  but,  dear  me !  doing  right 
does  n't  help  if  Uncle  chooses  to  decide 
that  it  is  wrong.  And  if  he  can't  walk, 
to  let  us  go  on  traveling,  he  's  going  to 
keep  getting  more  and  more  difficult  to 
get  along  with.  I  don't  like  to  tell 
Lee  how  troubled  I  am,  because  if  Lee 
gets  worked  up  and  decides  to  take  a 
hand  in  while  I  'm  traveling  with 
Uncle,  I  might  as  well  be  Mr.  Pick 
wick  when  he  rushed  between  just  in 
time  to  get  the  tongs  on  one  side  and 

the  shovel  on  the  other.      I  don't  want 
[21.] 


Seeing  France 

Lee  trying  to  defend  me  from  Uncle, 
because  I  know  Uncle  would  never 
forgive  him  for  thinking  I  needed  de 
fending.  You  know  yourself  just  how 
Uncle  is,  and  now  that  his  legs  are  so 
stiff  he  is  more  that  way  than  ever. 
Lee  does  n't  understand,  and  I  can't 
make  him  understand,  and  perhaps  it 's 
just  as  well  that  he  should  go  on  to 
morrow.  Maybe  Uncle  will  be  better 
in  a  few  days,  so  that  we  can  visit 
Bayeux.  He  's  crazy  to  go  to  Bayeux 
and  see  the  tapestry,  and  it  is  n't  so  very 
far.  But  what  shall  we  do  if  we  come 
to  any  town  again  where  there  are  no 
cabs  !  It  would  be  awful. 

However,  I  shall  not  worry,  for  it  's 
no    use.       Mrs.      Catherwood-Chigley 

wrote   me   her  address  on  one   of  her 
[212] 


With  Uncle  John 


cards,  and  Lee  took  it  and  sent  it  to  me 
with  some  beautiful  flowers.  He 
thought  it- was  such  a  clever,  safe  idea  ; 
but  just  suppose  we  meet  them  again  ! 
If  I  did  n't  think  Lee  was  just  right,  I  'd 
think  he  had  almost  too  many  clever 
ideas ;  and,  anyhow,  I  know  that  I  'm 
sure  that  he  has  too  many  while  I  Jm 
traveling  with  Uncle. 

Now,  good-night,   it 's  so   very  late. 
Don't  ever  feel  troubled  over  me,  for 
I  'm  having  a  splendid  time,  and  it  was 
so  kind  of  Uncle  to  bring  us. 
Your  own  loving 

YVONNE. 


X 


YVONNE     TO     HER    MOTHER 

Vire. 

D^AR     MAMA:     I     am    the 
happiest  thing  in  the  whole 
wide  world,   and  Lee  is  the 
grandest    fellow  !      I    must    write    you 
everything,  and  you  will  see. 

The  morning  after  I  last  wrote, 
Uncle  had  me  waked  up  at  seven  and 
wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper,  "  We  leave 
for  Bayeux  at  8.30."  I  was  just  about 
sick,  for  I  knew  he  was  n't  able  to,  and 
then,  besides,  if  we  left  so  early,!  surely 
shouldn't  see  Lee  again.  But  I  got  up 
["4] 


With  Uncle  John 


and  dressed,  of  course,  and  I  was  beside 
myself  to  find  some  way  of  sending  Lee 
a  scrap  of  a  good-by  before  we  took  a 
cab  for  the  gare.  Uncle  was  in  high 
spirits  over  getting  out  again,  and  all 
went  well  until  it  came  the  minute  to 
get  him  on  to  the  train.  Well,  I  do 
believe  he  was  scared  himself.  Getting 
on  to  a  French  train  is  almost  like 
going  up  a  ladder  that  slopes  the  wrong 
way,  I  always  think,  and  it  took  two 
commissionaires  to  hoist  Uncle  into 
the  coupe.  He  was  awfully  worried 
over  it,  I  could  see,  for  he  talked  about 
what  an  outrageous  idiot  Mr.  Chopstone 
was  all  the  way  to  Bayeux.  We  had  to 
get  out  there,  of  course,  and  I  was  be 
side  myself  to  know  how  to  manage. 
In  the  end  Uncle  came  down  so  sud- 


Seeing  France 

denly  that  he  nearly  crushed  me  and  a 
meek,  good-hearted  little  Frenchman 
who  had  kindly  offered  to  help  assist. 


Bayeux. 

The  gare  at  Bayeux  is  quite  a  walk 
from  the  part  of  the  town  where  the 


With  Uncle  John 


sights  are  and  there  wasn  't  a  cab  or  a 
thing  on  wheels.  I  did  n't  dare  look  at 
Uncle,  for  there  is  no  train  back  till 
four  in  the  afternoon.  He  seemed  a 
bit  staggered  at  first,  and  then  he  said 
well,  it  was  level,  and  we  'd  go  leisurely 
along  and  enjoy  the  fresh,  pure,  sweet 
air  of  the  country.  So  we  walked  along, 
but  I  could  see  he  was  n  't  enjoying  it  a 
bit,  and  it  took  us  a  half-hour  to  get  to 
where  we  were  going.  We  went  to 
the  cathedral  first,  and  Uncle  sat  right 
down  and  said  he  wanted  time  enough 
to  enjoy  the  ground- work  of  the  vault 
ing  and  that  I  could  just  leave  him  and 
go  around  alone.  It  was  my  first 
chance  to  look  at  anything  as  slow  as  I 
liked,  and  I  really  did  enjoy  myself  very 

much. 

[217] 


Seeing  France 

It  's  a  really  wonderful  old  cathe 
dral,  and  I  found  a  nice  old  sacristan 
behind  the  altar,  and  he  took  me  under 
neath  into  the  crypt,  and  the  crypt  is 
the  original  church  where  Harold  took 
the  oath.  It  was  slowly  buried  by  the 
dirt  of  centuries,  and  when  they  started 
to  put  a  furnace  in  a  few  years  ago,  they 
found  it  and  dug  it  out  again.  It  is  n't 
very  large,  and  the  walls  are  of  stone 
several  feet  thick,  with  little  bits  of 
arched  windows  set  up  too  high  to  see 
from. 

When  I  came  back  we  went  to  see 
the  tapestry  in  the  museum,  and  it  isn't 
really  tapestry  at  all :  it  's  a  long,  long 
strip  of  linen  about  a  foot  wide,  with 
scenes  embroidered  on  it  in  Kensington, 
and  over  and  over.  It  's  really  very 


With  Uncle  John 


well  done,  and  it  is  n't  a  bit  badly 
worn  out — only  a  few  little  holes  here 
and  there.  The  scenes  are  very  inter 
esting,  and  some  of  them  are  awfully 
funny.  The  way  they  hauled  the 
horses  over  the  sides  of  the  boats  when 
they  landed  in  England,  for  example. 
The  Saxons  have  beards,  and  the  Nor 
mans  are  shaven.  I  could  n't  help 
thinking  how  funny  it  was  that  the 
Normans,  who  were  regarded  as  barba 
rians  by  the  French,  were  looked  upon 
as  tremendously  effete  by  the  English. 
Uncle  took  a  deal  of  pleasure  studying 
the  whole  thing,  and  we  were  there  till 
it  was  time  for  lunch.  We  had  a  nice 
lunch  at  a  clean  little  place,  and  then 
came  the  rub.  There  was  nothing  to 

do  till  train-time,  and  that  terrible  walk 
[219] 


Seeing  France 

to  the  gare.  I  had  brought  a  book 
along,  so  I  could  read  aloud,  but  Uncle 
said  only  a  woman  would  come  to 
Bayeux  and  read  a  novel,  and  that  I 
reminded  him  of  Aunt  Jane.  You 
know  how  terrible  it  is  when  any  one 
reminds  him  of  Aunt  Jane  ;  so  I  closed 
the  book  at  once,  and  said  I  'd  do  any 
thing  he  liked.  He  said  that  that  was 
more  like  Aunt  Jane  than  ever,  to  just 
sit  back  and  throw  the  whole  burden 
on  to  him ;  and  then  he  shook  his 
watch  and  held  it  to  his  ear  and  said 
"  Hum  !  "  too,  one  right  after  the  other. 
I  was  almost  beside  myself  to  know 
what  to  do  or  what  to  suggest,  and  just 
then  something  came  puffing  up  behind 
us  and  stopped  right  at  our  side.  It 
was  a  big  automobile,  with  three  men 
[  220] 


With  Uncle  John 


in  it,  and  one  jerked  off  his  mask  and 
jumped  out  over  the  wheel  and  grabbed 
Uncle  by  the  hand.  And  it  was  Lee! 

You  never  saw  anything  like  Uncle's 
face  !  He  seemed  reparalyzed  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  Lee  kept  shaking  his  hand 
and  telling  him  how  glad  he  was  to  see 
him,  and  how  he  must  get  right  into 
the  automobile  and  go  on  with  them  to 
Caen.  My  heart  just  about  stopped 
beating,  I  was  so  anxious,  but  Lee  never 
stopped  shaking,  and  the  other  men  took 
off  their  masks  and  got  out,  too,  and  told 
Uncle  he  really  must  do  them  the  honor 
and  give  them  the  pleasure,  and  in  the 
end  we  got  him  in,  and  Lee  won  out. 

Oh,  it  was  such  fun  !  We  had  the 
most  glorious  trip  back  to  Caen.  They 
had  an  extra  mask  along,  and  Uncle 
[223] 


Seeing  France 

wore  it  and  sat  on  the  front  seat,  and 
Mr.  Peters,  the  man  who  owns  the 
automobile,  was  really  lovely  to  him. 
The  other  man  and  Lee  and  I  sat  be 
hind,  and  the  other  man  is  Mr.  Peters's 
mother's  son  by  her  second  husband.  His 
name  is  Archie  Stowell,  and  I  should 
judge  that  Mr.  Peters's  mother's  second 
husband  was  a  lot  livelier  than  the  first, 
but  not  so  clever.  Mr.  Peters  is  really 
awfully  clever,  and  the  way  he  talked 
to  Uncle  was  wonderful.  Uncle  said  it 
was  a  very  smooth-riding  automobile, 
and  Mr.  Peters  said  it  did  him  good  all 
through  to  meet  some  one  who  recog 
nized  the  good  points  of  a  good  machine 
at  once;  he  said  not  one  man  in  a  thou 
sand  had  brains  enough  to  know  a  good 

machine  when  he  was  in  it,  and  that 

[224] 


With  Uncle  John 


he  was  overjoved  to  have  accidentally 
met  the  one  man  who  did  discriminate. 
And  Uncle  said  he  should  judge  that 
automobiling  was  a  very  easy  way  of 
getting  over  the  ground  when  one  was 
traveling  in  Europe,  and  Mr.  Peters 
said  it  was  perfectly  bewildering  how 
the  breadth  and  scope  of  Uncle's  mind 
could  instantaneously  seize  and  weigh 
every  side  of  an  intricate  proposition  and 
as  instantaneously  solve  it  completely. 
By  the  time  we  reached  Caen  Uncle 
was  so  saturated  with  Mr.  Peters  that 
he  even  smiled  on  Lee  as  we  got  out 
and  asked  them  all  three  to  dine  with 
us  at  eight.  They  accepted,  and  went 
to  their  hotel  to  dress,  and  Uncle  went 
to  his  room  without  one  word  of  any 
kind  to  me. 

15  [225] 


Seeing  France 

They  came,  and  we  had  a  very  nice 
dinner  in  a  little  separate  room,  and  the 
way  Mr.  Peters  talked  to  Uncle  was 
worth  listening  to  surely.  And  when 
Uncle  was  talking,  he  leaned  forward 
and  paid  attention  as  if  his  life  depended 
on  every  word.  By  ten  o'clock  Uncle 
was  happier  than  I  have  almost  ever 
seen  him,  and  Mr.  Peters  said  it  was  no 
use,  we  just  simply  must  join  their  party 
and  go  on  in  the  automobile.  Lee  be 
gan  to  laugh  when  he  said  that,  and 
said:  "Now,  Peters,  you  '11  learn  the 
sensation  of  getting  turned  down  cold." 
It  was  an  awful  second  for  me,  because 
I  just  felt  Uncle's  terrible  battle  between 
not  wanting  to  go  on  with  Lee  and  want 
ing  to  contradict  him;  but  in  the  end 

the  wanting  to   contradict  overpowered 

[226] 


-rt 

•a 


With  Uncle  John 


everything  else,  and  he  said:  "Young 
man,  when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am  you  '11 
he  less  ready  to  speak  for  other  people 
than  you  seem  disposed  to  do  now." 

And  then  he  accepted  Mr.  Peters's 
invitation!  So  will  you  only  please  to 
think  of  it — we  are  touring  with  Lee, 
and  to-day  we  came  up  through  the 
lovely  valley  of  the  Vire  to  this  little 
tow^n  of  the  same  name.  It  is  all  too 
nice  for  words ;  Uncle  sits  on  the  front 
seat  all  the  time,  and  when  he  gives 
Mr.  Peters  advice,  Mr.  Peters  always 
thanks  him  and  says  that  he  never  met 
any  one  hefore  writh  sense  enough  to 
have  figured  that  out. 

We  passed  Elfrida  and  her  sister  to 
day,  pedaling  along  for  dear  life.  They 
did  n't  know  us,  and  they  are  getting  to 


Seeing  France 

look  so  awful  that  I  thought  it  was  just 
as  well.  Uncle  says  he  thinks  they  are 
seeing  Europe  for  thirty  cents  a  day 
now. 

It  is  raining,  and  I  must  go  to  bed. 
Your  very  happy, 

YVONNE. 


[230] 


xr 


YVONNE   TO   HER   MOTHER 

Vire. 

DEAREST  MAMA:  We  are 
still  here  in  Vire,  and  we  can 
not  go  on  for  it  is  raining  aw 
fully.  It  rained  all  yesterday,  and  we  had 
more  fun.  About  ten  in  the  morning  an 
automobile  arrived  with  a  lady  Lee 
knows  named  Mrs.  Brewer  and  three 
men,  and  about  twelve  another  automo 
bile  arrived  with  Clara  and  Emily 
Kingsley  and  their  aunt  Clara  Emily 
and  Ellsworth  Grimm  and  Jim  Free 
man  and  a  chauffeur,  and  about  half- 


Seeing  France 

past  one  a  runabout  automobile  came 
in  with  the  two  Tripps.  We  are  like 
a  big  house-party,  and  Mr.  Peters  plays 
poker  with  Uncle  every  minute,  so  we 
can  all  have  no  end  of  a  good  time. 

I  must  explain  to  you  about  Mr. 
Peters,  because  Lee  explained  to  me.  I 
was  so  troubled  over  Mr.  Peters  being 
so  devoted  to  Uncle  and  never  winning 
a  single  jack-pot  once  himself  that  Lee 
told  me  all  about  how  it  is.  It  seems 
that  Mr.  Peters's  mother  was  married 
to  Mr.  Peters's  father  for  quite  a  while 
before  he  died  and  that  Mr.  Peters's 
father  was  n't  very  well  off  and  was 
very  hard  to  live  pleasantly  with  on  ac 
count  of  Mr.  Stowell's  father,  who  lived 
next  door  and  was  very  well  off  and  very 
easy  for  Mr.  Peters's  mother  to  get  along 


With  Uncle  John 


with  always  ;  Mr.  Peters's  father  died 
when  Mr.  Peters  was  about  twelve  years 
old,  and  just  as  soon  as  it  wras  perfectly 
ladylike,  Mr.  Peters's  mother  married 
Mr.  Stowell's  father  and  went  next  door 
to  live  and  had  Mr.  Stowell.  Lee  says 
Mr.  Stowell's  father  never  liked  Mr. 
Peters  much  because  he  reminded  him 
of  all  those  years  that  Mr.  Peters's  and 
Mr.  Stowell's  mother  lived  next  door 
instead  of  living  with  him;  but  Lee  says 
Mr.  Peters  is  very  clever,  and  he  saw  how 
much  his  father  lost  from  not  being  easy 
to  get  along  writh,  and  so  he  made  up 
his  mind  to  be  easy  to  get  along  with 
himself.  He  gets  along  so  well  with 
Mr.  Stowell  that  they  travel  together 
all  the  time,  and  Lee  says  he  told  him 
that  if  he  could  get  along  well  with 
[233] 


Seeing  France 

Uncle  he  'd  make  it  well  worth  his 
while;  so  he  's  getting  along  beautifully 
with  Uncle,  and  Lee  is  making  it  ever 
so  well  worth  his  while. 

Clara  Kingsley  has  fallen  in  love  with 
one  of  the  men  who  came  with  Mrs. 
Brewer — the  tall,  dark  one,  who  does 
not  talk  much  and  reads  German  in  his 
room  most  of  his  time.  There  are  so 
many  that  I  get  names  mixed,  but  Emily 
Kingsley  is  the  same  as  ever,  and  such  a 
joy  to  meet  again.  She  says  she  does  n't 
fall  in  love  the  way  Clara  does ;  she  only 
gets  badly  spattered.  The  two  Tripps 
are  both  devoted  to  Emily,  and  I  think 
they  are  all  sort  of  keeping  along  to 
gether.  Miss  Clara  Emily  asked  after 
every  one  in  our  family,  even  Aunt  Jane. 
Of  course  I  told  her  that  Aunt  Jane  had 
[>34] 


With  Uncle  John 


been  dead  two  years,  and  you  ought  to 
have  seen  her  jump  and  look  at  Uncle. 
She  asked  me  if  Uncle  lived  alone  in  the 
house,  and  she  looked  so  reflective  that 
I  felt  quite  uncomfortable.  I  told  Lee 
about  it,  but  he  says  Uncle  must  take 
his  chances  the  same  as  the  rest  of  the 
world  when  it  comes  to  Miss  Clara 
Emily.  I  wish  Lee  would  n't  make 
light  of  anything  so  serious  as  the  way 
Miss  Clara  Emily  looked  reflective. 
You  know  you  would  n't  like  her  hav 
ing  all  Aunt  Jane's  lace,  and  I  'm  sure 
that  after  Uncle  was  completely  married 
to  her,  he  would  n't  like  it  at  all,  either. 
I  don't  know  what  Mrs.  Brewer  is, 
but  the  men  that  came  in  the  automo 
bile  with  her  are  just  devoted  to  her,  and 
she  makes  every  one  have  a  good  time. 
[>35] 


Seeing  France 

We  played  cards  and  Consequences  all 
the  afternoon,  and  Mrs.  Brewer  told  our 
fortunes  from  tea-leaves  in  the  evening. 
She  told  Uncle  to  beware  of  a  long, 
pointed  nose  which  she  saw  in  his  cup, 
and  Miss  Clara  Emily  did  n't  know 
whether  to  be  mad  or  glad.  She  saw 
a  wedding-ring  in  Lee's  cup,  and  I 
blushed  terribly  and  tried  to  cough,  and 
sneezed  instead  ;  and  Lee  said  it  was  an 
automobile  tire,  and  meant  a  break 
down.  I  do  think  Lee  is  always  so 
nice.  But  about  eleven  we  all  got  a 
terrible  shock,  for  the  handsome  man 
that  Clara  has  fallen  in  love  with  sud 
denly  came  to  the  door  with  his  German 
book  in  his  hand  and  said  to  Mrs. 
Brewer,  "  Come  to  bed,  Bert.  I  'm 
sleepy  as  the  devil." 

[236] 


With  Uncle  John 


You  never  saw  anything  like  poor 
Clara  !  I  thought  that  she  would  faint, 
for  you  know  when  Clara  falls  in  love 
how  it  goes  all  through  her.  She  went 
upstairs  a  little  later,  and,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  she  had  the  next  room  to  the 
Brewers,  and  she  says  it  just  about  killed 
her  to  hear  him  brushing  his  teeth,  and 
I  promised  her  I  'd  never  tell,  but  she 
s-ays  he  called  her  and  Emily  the  "Yel 
low  Kids"  and  laughed  and  laughed 
and  laughed.  I  do  think  it  was  very 
horrid  of  him,  for  they  can't  help  hav 
ing  Mr.  Kingsley's  ears,  and  I  comforted 
Clara  all  I  could,  and  told  her  that  the 
way  she  puffs  her  hair  is  ever  so  becom 
ing.  It  is  n't  a  bit,  but  I  had  to  be  as 
nice  as  I  knew  how,  for  she  was  crying 
so  that  I  was  afraid  Mr.  Brewer  would 
[237] 


Seeing  France 

call  her  Cyrano  de  Bergerac,  if  she  did  n't 
stop. 

I  had  the  room  between  Uncle  and  the 
two  Tripps,  and  the  two  Tripps  calcu 
lated  their  money  for  three  solid  hours, 
I  do  believe,  trying  to  see  whether 
they  'd  have  to  draw  on  Paris  behind 
them  or  could  wait  for  London  ahead. 
The  big  Tripp  said  Mr.  Peters  had  a 
hard  row  to  hoe  and  the  little  Tripp  said 
Lee  had  a  soft  snap,  and  then  they 
added  and  subtracted  and  divided  for 
another  hour.  I  was  almost  insane 
when  finally  the  little  Tripp  said  :  "Tell 
me  what  fifteen  times  nine  is,  and  then 
I  '11  go  to  sleep,"  and  someone  across 
the  hall  hollered :  "  In  Heaven's  name 
tell  him  what  fifteen  times  nine  is,  and 


With  Uncle  John 


then  we  '11  all  go  to  sleep."    There  was 
deadly  stillness  after  that. 

(NEXT  DAY) 

Vire. 
DEAREST   MAMA: 

You  see,  we  are  still  here  and  it  is 
still  raining.  Every  one  telegraphed  for 
mail  yesterday  and  every  one  got  it  to 
day.  I  had  your  letters  and  one  from 
Edna  and  one  from  Mrs.  Clary.  They 
are  going  on  a  coaching  trip  with  the 
man  who  was  n't  a  duke,  and  Edna  has 
bought  three  new  hats.  Mrs.  Clary 
says  I  am  an  angel  and  that  she  and 
Edna  think  it  right  out  of  Heaven 
the  way  Lee  has  turned  up.  I  had  three 
letters  from  Mr.  Edgar,  and  he  says  he 
[239] 


Seeing  France 

is  thinking  of  making  a  trip  into  Brit 
tany  and  joining  us.  I  told  Lee,  and 
Lee  says  he  is  n't  thinking  anything  of 
the  kind,  not  in  his  life.  I  don't  really 
think  that  Mr.  Edgar  and  Lee  would 
get  on  very  well  together.  I  feel  al 
most  sure  that  they  would  n't  like  each 
other.  Indeed,  I  feel  quite  sure. 

Poor  Clara  came  to  my  room  while 
I  was  reading  letters,  and  she  says  she  is 
blighted  by  Mr.  Brewer  and  knows  she 
can  never  get  over  it.  She  says  she 
would  n't  have  him  know  that  she  has 
the  next  room  and  can  hear  every  word 
for  anything,  for  she  says  it 's  perfectly 
awful  all  she  's  overhearing.  She  says 
he  called  Mrs.  Brewer  "Ladybug,"  and 
it  sounded  so  sweet  that  she  cried  for 

fifteen  minutes  with  the  pillow  around 

[240] 


With  Uncle  John 


her  head  to  keep  them  from  hearing 
her.  I  'm  awfully  sorry  about  Clara, 
because  she  is  always  so  sincere.  Don't 
you  remember  that  time  that  she  was 
so  sincere  that  they  were  afraid  that  she 
would  commit  suicide  over  Cleever 
Wiggins — and  that  awfully  sincere  time 
she  had  with  young  Prof.  Cook  ?  She 
says  she  could  stand  anything  if  she 
could  feel  that  she  was  reciprocated  ;  but 
she  says  she  can't  feel  that  Mr.  Brewer 
reciprocates  one  bit,  for  he  told  his 
wife  that  he  bet  Clara  would  be  an 
older  maid  than  her  aunt  before  she  got 
through  with  life,  and  Clara  says  that  's 
no  compliment,  however  you  work  it. 

When  we  went  down-stairs,  Mr.  Pe 
ters  and  Uncle  were  playing  poker  and 
Miss  Clara  Emily  was  sitting  by  them 


Seeing  France 

looking  rapt.  Heavens!  I  do  hope  it 
will  stop  raining  and  let  us  get  away 
soon,  for  Uncle  told  me  this  noon  that 
she  was  more  unlike  Aunt  Jane  than 
any  woman  that  he  had  seen  in  years. 
Lee  says  he  hopes  we  can  get  away  very 
soon,  too  ;  he  does  not  like  Ellsworth 
Grimm.  It  is  a  pity,  because  Ellsworth 
has  grown  so  nice,  and  with  his  pointed 
beard  he  is  really  very  handsome.  He 
has  done  a  beautiful  sketch  of  me  that 
every  one  but  Lee  thinks  is  splendid, 
and  I  'm  going  to  send  it  to  you  when 
it  is  finished.  Uncle  is  very  good-tem 
pered,  and  has  won  over  a  hundred  and 
fifty  francs  from  Mr.  Peters  at  poker. 
Mr.  Peters  says  he  's  played  poker  for 
years  without  meeting  such  a  rattling 
winner  as  Uncle,  and  Uncle  believes 
[ 242 ]  • 


With  Uncle  John 


him.      The  two  Tripps  want  to  go  on, 

too,  because   they    decided  to   wait  lor 

j 

their  money  at  London,  and  they  are 
afraid  they  are  going  to  run  short.  Mr. 
Brewer  wants  to  go,  too,  because  he  has 
finished  his  German  book.  I  think  we  all 
want  to  go,  because  two  days  is  a  long 
while  to  spend  in  Vire.  Clara  says  if  they 
cannot  go  on  in  the  automobile,  she  must 
take  a  train,  for  she  is  getting  more  and 
more  sincere  the  more  she  is  hearing 
Mr.  Brewer  talking  to  his  wife  through 
the  wall.  Clara  says  he  said  that  he  was 
going  to  snip  her  nose  off  when  they 
were  dressing  this  morning,  and  she  says 
he  calls  her  "  Puss"  till  Clara  leels  as 
if  she  should  expire  in  agony.  She 
does  n't  get  any  sympathy  from  Emily, 
because  Emily  has  another  room,  and 
[243] 


Seeing  France 

Emily  is  n't  sincere,  anyhow.  Emily 
has  thrown  over  the  two  Tripps  and 
taken  Mr.  Stowell,  and  thrown  over 
Mr.  Stowell  and  gone  back  to  the  big 
Tripp,  all  in  just  these  two  days.  Emily 
asked  me  if  I  ever  saw  such  a  fool  as 
Clara  ;  she  says  it  almost  kills  her  to 
have  such  a  sister  and  such  an  aunt. 
She  asked  me  if  I  'd  noticed  her  aunt 
looking  at  my  Uncle,  and  I  had  to  say 
yes.  Then  she  said  she  did  hope  that 
it  would  stop  raining  pretty  soon,  for 
she  wants  to  get  to  Granville  and  meet 
a  man  and  get  letters  from  three  more. 
Uncle  came  into  my  room  this  after 
noon  and  said  the  more  he  saw  of 
Europe  the  better  he  liked  it,  and  that 
Mr.  Peters  was  the  sort  of  friend  that 
was  worth  making.  He  said  he  had 
[244] 


"  Miss  Clara  Emily  is  getting  very  much  in  earnest" 


With  Uncle  John 


decided  to  go  on  with  them  to  Mont 
St.  Michel,  because  they  were  so  urgent 
that  he  could  n't  well  get  out  of  it. 
He  says  he  hopes  I  won't  consider  that 
he  has  changed  his  opinion  of  Lee  be 
cause  he  has  n't,  but  that  he  will  say 
this  much,  and  that  is,  that  the  fact 
that  a  man  like  Mr.  Peters  will  call 
Lee  his  friend  proves  that  he  must  have 
some  good  in  him  somewhere.  Uncle 
said  the  Kingsleys  seem  to  be  nice  girls, 
and  then  he  coughed,  but  I  did  n't 
say  anything,  so  he  dropped  the  subject. 
I  must  tell  you,  though,  that  Miss  Clara 
Emily  is  getting  very  much  in  earnest, 
and  every  one  is  noticing  it,  and  Uncle 
seems  pleased. 

We  all  played  cards  to-day  and  wrote 
letters  and   Lee  told  Ellsworth  Grimm 
[>47] 


Seeing  France 

he  was  a  blank  idiot  under  his  breath. 
I  don't  know  what  was  the  trouble, 
and  Lee  says  it  is  n't  any  of  my  business, 
but  I  think  we  are  all  getting  cross  from 
being  shut  up  so  much  in  this  little 
country  hotel.  Elfrida  and  her  sister 
arrived  about  noon,  but  there  was  n't 
any  spare  room  under  two  francs,  and 
so  they  went  to  the  other  hotel.  Ells 
worth  Grimm  has  gone  to  the  other 
hotel,  too.  He  says  it  rains  in  his 
ceiling  and  he  's  afraid  he  '11  get  pneu 
monia. 

It 's  getting  awful  about  poor  Clara 
and  Mr.  Brewer,  for  he  said  something 
about  her  to-day  that  almost  killed  her, 
and  that  is  so  bad  that  she  won't  repeat 
it  to  me.  She  says  Mrs.  Brewer  just 
shrieked  with  laughter  over  it,  and  told 


With  Uncle  John 


him  he  was  the  dearest,  horridest  thing 
alive.  Clara  says  I  cannot  possibly 
guess  the  torture  of  being  sincere  over 
a  married  man  who  howls  with  laughter 
over  you  in  the  next  room.  She  says 
she  can't  help  hearing,  and  she  's  taken 
an  awful  cold  standing  with  her  ear  to 
the  wall,  too.  Poor  Clara  ! 

Emily  and  the  big  Tripp  went  out 
and  walked  in  the  rain  most  all  the 
afternoon,  and  I  thought  she  must  be 
very  fond  of  him  to  be  willing  to  get 
so  wet ;  but  she  says  all  she  's  done  here 
she  's  done  to  make  Jim  Freeman 
jealous.  I  was  so  surprised  when  she 
told  me  that,  for  Jim  has  spent  the 
entire  two  days  with  the  chauffeur 
under  the  automobile.  They  have 
only  come  out  to  eat  and  sleep,  and  if 
[249] 


Seeing  France 

he  is  in  love  with  Emily,  he  is  certainly 
taking  it  easy. 


Vire  (l2  M.  next  day}. 
OH,  MAMA,  we  are  so  tired  of  this 
place !  Clara  has  cried  herself  sick, 
and  her  aunt  sent  for  the  doctor.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Brewer  heard  through  the 
wall  when  he  came,  and  heard  that  it 
was  Clara,  and  of  course  they  knew  that 
Clara  must  have  heard  them  just  as  well 
as  they  could  hear  the  doctor,  and  they 
nearly  went  crazy.  Mrs.  Brewer  came 
to  me  in  a  sort  of  mad  despair  and  said 
Mr.  Brewer  was  almost  wild.  She  says 
she  has  mimicked  Clara  and  Emily  and 
their  aunt  over  and  over,  and  she  never 
dreamed  that  the  wall  was  so  thin.  She 


With  Uncle  John 


says  Mr.  Brewer  talks  all  the  time  he 
dresses  and  undresses  and  says  anything 
that  comes  into  his  head.  They  felt 
perfectly  unable  to  face  Clara  again,  and 
it  was  raining  so  hard  that  they  couldn't 
go  on,  so  they  moved  over  to  the  other 
hotel. 

Vire  (2  P.  M.  same  day}. 
IT  's  very  funny,  but  it  seems  that  the 
little  Tripp  was  dreadfully  taken  with 
Mrs.  Brewer,  so  the  two  Tripps  have 
moved  over  to  the  other  hotel,  too.  Mr. 
Stowell  and  Emily  want  to  go,  too,  but 
they  are  with  parties,  and  cannot  do  as 
they  please.  The  big  Tripp  came 
back  for  his  soap,  and  said  he  had  a  fire 
place  and  now  Uncle  wants  to  move, 
too. 


Seeing  France 

Vire  (4  P.  M.  same  day}. 
WE  did  move,  and  Lee  said  if  we 
went,  he  was  going.  So  he  and  Mr. 
Peters  and  Mr.  Stowell  have  come  over. 
So  we  are  all  here  except  the  Kingsleys 
and  Jim  Freeman.  I  had  to  go  back 
for  Uncle's  soap,  and  the  little  Tripp 
left  his  pajamas,  so  we  went  back  to 
gether  to  get  both,  and  poor  Clara  is 
delirious,  screaming,  "  Yellow  kids,  yel 
low  kids  !  "  every  minute.  Every  one 
thinks  she  is  thinking  of  shopping  in 
Paris,  and  I  did  n't  explain ;  but  while 
we  were  there,  Mr.  Brewer  came  back 
for  their  soap  and  heard  Clara,  and,  as 
a  result,  he  and  his  wife  went  on  in  their 
automobile,  rain  or  no  rain.  They  left 
one  of  their  men  named  Scott  Mc 
Carthy,  and  took  Ellsworth  Grimm. 
[252] 


With  Uncle  John 


Ellsworth  wanted  to  go,  and  Scott 
wanted  to  stay,  so  it  happened  very 
nicely. 


Vlre  (6  P.  M.  same 
THEY  have  just  moved  Clara  over 
here.  She  had  a  fresh  fit  when  she 
heard  Mr.  Brewer  getting  the  soap,  and 
Miss  Clara  Emily  thought  that  a 
change  of  scene  would  benefit  her  ;  so 
they  all  moved  over.  Emily  told  me 
(I  walked  over  with  Emily  when  she 
went  back  to  get  their  soap)  that  it 
really  was  n't  Clara  at  all  :  it  was  that 
her  aunt  wanted  to  keep  close  to  my 
Uncle.  Is  n't  it  awful  ?  And  Uncle 
is  so  flattered,  too  !  I  do  hope  that  it 
will  stop  raining  to-morrow.  Lee 
does  n't  like  Scott  McCarthy,  and  it  is 


Seeing  France 

a  pity,  for  he  seems  to  be  such  a  nice 
man.  It  's  terribly  dull  without  Mrs. 
Brewer,  she  was  so  lively.  Mr.  Peters 
is  beginning  to  look  real  pale,  and  Lee 
says  he  ought  to  have  a  monument  to 
patience  erected  to  him.  Jim  Freeman 
is  worried  over  the  automobiles  ;  he  's 
afraid  something  will  happen  to  them 
on  account  of  our  all  changing  hotels. 
Would  n't  that  be  terrible  ? 

Lovingly, 

YVONNE. 

Vire  (8  A.  M.  next  day]. 
p.  s.  Just  a  line  to  say  that  the  sun  has 
come  out,  and  that  we  are  all  going  on 
by  train,  except  Jim  Freeman  and  the 
chauffeur.  Some  one  slashed  all  the 
automobile  tires  last  night.  Is  n't  that 
awful  ? 

l>$4] 


XII 

UNCLE  JOHN    AND    MONT-SAINT-MICHEL 

'ELL,  this  is  a  great  change 
from  the  automobile — eh, 
Peters  ?  Of  all  the  out 
rageous,  heathenish  actions,  that  cut 
ting  of  automobile  tires  was  the  worst. 
Every  man  at  that  hotel  ought  to  be 
hung  up  and  high-strung  and  quartered 
—make  an  example  of  the  whole  out 
fit.  I  must  say,  though,  that  I  blame 
Freeman  a  good  deal  myself.  He  says 
he  felt  anxious,  and  yet  he  never  had 
that  chauffeur  set  up  to  watch.  Fool 
ish,  very  foolish ;  but  he  '11  pay  the 


Seeing  France 

penalty,  having  to  stay  there  and  wait  for 
the  tires  from  Caen. 

"  Lee,  if  you  could  withdraw  your 
self  somewhat  from  the  window,  per 
haps  I  could  form  some  faint  con 
ception  of  what  the  country  looks  like 
to  the  north.  If  you  and  Yvonne  want 
to  compare  maps,  I  should  suggest  that 
you  sit  side  by  side  instead  of  holding 
the  map  so  that  it  completely  covers 
my  horizon. 

"  Well,  Peters,  and  so  here  we  are 
off  for  Dol.  Dol  seems  to  be  the  only 
way  to  get  in  or  out  of  Brittany  and  it 
must  have  been  so  always,  for  in  Ma 
tilda's  tapestry  she  's  got  William  and 
Harold  on  their  way  to  Dol  as  a 
beginning  to  making  things  hot  for  the 
Lord  of  Brittany.  Very  interesting 


With  Uncle  John 


study,  that  tapestry,  Peters.    I  would  n't 
have— 

"  Stowell,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but 
those  are  my  feet,  and  not  valises, 
that  you  are  going  to  sleep  against.  1 
did  n't  say  anything  as  long  as  you  took 
them  as  they  lay,  but  now  that  you 
want  my  left  foot  slanting  to  the  right, 
I  must  protest.  Suppose  you  end  your 
self  the  other  way  for  a  change,  any 
how. 

"  Well,  Peters,  and  so  we  are  off  for 
Mont-Saint-Michel,  bless  her  old  heart 
—or  is   Michel   a   him  ?      I    must    say, 
I  'in  deeply  interested   in   to-day's    ex 
pedition.     Was  n't  some  English  Henry 
shut  up  on  Mont-Saint-Michel  and  fed 
by  ravens  there,  or  something  like  that  ? 
Yes  ;   I  know  there  's  some  such  legend, 
M  [257] 


Seeing  France 

and  now  we  're  going  to  see  the  spot. 
How  do  we  get  from  Dol  to  the  mont  ? 
By  Pontorson,  eh  ?  And  then  diligence 
the  rest.  Well,  I  must  say  it  sounds 
like  quite  an  undertaking ;  but  then,  if 
you  leave  the  beaten  path,  you  must 
always  pay  the  price,  and  I  must  say  I 
enjoy  these  little  jaunts  with  a  congenial 
party.  Too  bad  the  Kingsleys  could  n't 
have  continued  with  us.  Nice  people, 
the  Kingsleys — very  interesting  girls. 
What  did  you  say  ?  Oh,  yes,  of  course 
the  aunt  was  interesting,  too ;  but — 
what  did  you  say  ?  Nonsense,  non 
sense  !  But  I  will  say  one  thing,  Peters, 
and  that  is  that  it  pays  to  travel  around 
when  it  brings  one  in  contact  with 
people  such  as  yourself  and  Miss 
Kingsley. 

"  So  this  is  Pontorson  !   Do  we  get 

[258] 


With  Uncle  John 


down  here  ?  Is  that  the  diligence  ?  Do 
we  get  up  there  ?  Great  Scott  !  how  can 
we  ?  And  it  looks  to  be  about  full  al 
ready.  Do  you  mean  that  we  have  got 
to  climb  that  little  ladder?  I  don't  be 
lieve  Yvonne  can.  I  don't  believe  she 
ought  to,  even  if  she  can.  Can't  we  go 
to  Mont-Saint-Michel  some  other  way  ? 
Peters,  I  'd  like  to  slay  with  my  own 
hands  that  wretch  that  slashed  our  auto 
mobile.  Will  you  think  of  the  differ 
ence  he  is  making  in  our  comfort  these 
days  ? 

"  Well,  Stowell,  let 's  see  you  skin  up 
there  first.  Looks  easy,  don't  it,  Peters  ? 
Lee,  you  go  next.  Now,  Peters,  it  's 
your  turn.  And  now,  Yvonne,  my 
child,  steady,  and  start  and  keep  right 
on  to  the  end.  There — there — catch 
her  on  top  anywhere,  Peters.  Got  her  ? 
[259] 


Seeing  France 

Are   you   all  right,  child  ?     And    now 
for  your  Uncle  John  ! 

"  Ask  him  if  this  is  a  new  ladder.  I 
don't  want  to  take  any  chances  with  an 
old  ladder,  you  know.  Well,  what  did 
he  say  ?  Ask  him  if  people  ever  do 
fall  or  meet  with  any  sort  of  accidents 
going  up.  Well,  what  did  he  say  ? 
Peters,  this  looks  more  serious  every 
minute.  What  do  they  have  the  thing 
so  high  for,  anyhow  ?  I  must  say  I 
don't  like  going  up  there  at  all.  Ask 
him  if  he  has  ever  known  anyone  to 
miss  their  footing  ?  Well,  tell  him  to 
keep  a  good  grip  on  the  ladder.  Now 
then,  one,  two, — oh,  this  is — confound 
him !  tell  him  to  steady  it — Great 
Scott !  Landed ! 

"  And   now   that  I  am  up,  tell  me 

[260] 


With  Uncle  John 


how  in  all  creation  I  'm  ever  to  get 
down  again. 

"  Well,  why  don't  we  start  ?     That  "s 

J 

the  worst  of  Europe,  Peters — no  push, 
no  energy.  Perfectly  content  to  sit 
on  a  diligence  and  stagnate.  Let 
me  look  at  my  watch.  Eleven. 
Well,  I  'm  not  at  all  surprised.  I 
would  n't  be  surprised  at  anything  that 
might  occur  in  this  vicinity.  I  tell 
you,  Peters,  it  will  be  a  glad  day  for 
me  when  I  set  my  foot  down  hard  on 
a  New  York  steamer  pier  once  more. 
I  can't  but  feel— 

"  Ah,  so  we  are  to  get  under  way  at 
last  !  Lumbering  old  concern — eh, 
Peters  ?  Great  contrast  to  the  automo 
bile — Lee,  as  there  may  be  some  one 
speaking  English  within  a  mile  of  us, 


Seeing  France 

I  would  suggest  that  you  lower  your 
voice  a  trifle  and  give  the  other  fellow 
a  chance.  What  ?  I  don't  catch  what 
you  say  ?  Speaking  to  me  ?  Who  's 
speaking  to  me  ?  Tou  ?  Well,  what 
do  you  want  to  say  to  me  ?  I'm  right 
here  to  be  spoken  to,  and  from  the  out 
look  I  should  fancy  that  I  was  going 
to  be  right  here  for  an  indefinite  length 
of  time.  Well,  what  is  it  ?  The  Brewers  ! 
Where  ?  Ahead  there  ?  How  do  you 
know  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  What  do  you 
think,  Peters  ?  Yes,  that  's  them. 
Brewer  seems  to  be  underneath  the 
machine.  Well,  what  shall  we  do  ? 
Wave  and  holler  ?  We  can't  do  any 
thing  else  if  we  want  to.  But  they 
are  going  to  be  a  good  deal  surprised  to 

see   us  perched    aloft    like    this.      Yes ; 
[262] 


With  Uncle  John 


there  's  Mrs.  Brewer  sitting  on  the 
bank  with  McCarthy  and  the  other 
man.  I  'd  rather  be  the  guests  than 
the  owner  when  it  comes  to  an  auto 
mobile  any  day. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  holler,  Lee  ? 
That 's  it — make  a  trumpet  out  of  your 
hands  and  just  give  it  to  them.  Gee  ! 
but  they  are  surprised  !  Holler  that  we 
are  going  to  Mme.  Poulard  Aine.  I 
suppose  that  they  're  going  there,  too, 
anyway  ;  no  one  ever  goes  any  where  else. 
Dear  me  !  but  they  're  happy  to  have 
that  automobile.  Lucky  for  them  that 
they  went  on  just  when  they  did. 
There 's  Brewer  crawling  out  from 
under.  Well,  I  can't  stay  twisted  any 
longer,  so  we  '11  turn  our  eyes  once 
more  to  the  future. 


Seeing  France 

"  What 's  that  ant-hill  out  at  sea  ?  It 
is  n't  the  sea,  though,  is  it  ?  It 's  land  ; 
gray  sand,  I  vow.  And  so  that  is  Mont- 
Saint-Michel  ?  Curious.  Used  to  be  on 
land,  eh,  and  then  got  to  be  on  sea  ?  It 
appears  to  me  that  we  have  quite  a  drive 
before  us  yet.  Looks  to  me  to  be  three 
or  four  miles.  What  do  you  say, 
Peters  ?  Of  course  I  don't  know,  how 
big  the  mont  is,  so  I  have  nothing  to 
judge  the  distance  by  ;  but  I  should  say 
three  miles  at  least. 

"  Stowell,  I  've  heard  that  story  you 
are  telling  ever  since  I  was  born  ;  who 
ever  told  you  that  it  was  new  ought  to 
be  shot.  This  tendency  to  tell  old 
stories  is  a  perfect  vice  with  some  people, 
Peters,  and  that  brother  of  yours  is  for 
ever  doing  it.  I  've  heard  him  tell 

[264] 


With  Uncle  John 


about  calling  the  cabman  a  pig  in 
France  and  asking  him  if  he  was  en 
gaged  in  Germany  until  I  'm  about  to 
the  end  of  my  patience.  Great  Scott  ! 
how  hot  the  sun  is,  and  no  matter  how 
gaily  we  lumber  along,  the  mont  looks 
to  be  equally  distant.  What  is  this  road 
we  're  on,  anyway  ?  Seems  to  be  a  high 
way  in  the  most  literal  sense  of  the 
word.  Dike,  eh  ?  Built  on  purpose 
for  tourists,  I  suppose — the  American 
tourists  before  all,  I  '11  bet. 

"  Well,  so  that  is  the  mont  close  to. 
Appears  to  just  comfortably  cover  up  the 
whole  island.  Curious  collection  of 
houses  and  staircases  topped  off  by  a 
church.  However,  my  main  care  at 
this  moment  is  n't  what  we  've  come  to 
see,  but  how  in  thunder  we  're  to  get 

[265] 


Seeing  France 

down  to  see  it.  Well,  the  people  line 
up  pretty  thick,  and  they  have  the  ad 
ditional  joy  of  knowing  that  every  last 
one  of  us  is  a  tourist.  That  's  one  good 
thing  about  America,  Peters,  you  can 
travel  there  without  being  a  tourist. 
You  pay  a  stiff  price  for  very  little,  but 
that  little  's  good,  and  the  game  ends 
with  it.  Europe  's  entirely  different : 
what  turns  on  the  light  over  the  wash- 
stand  turns  it  off  over  the  bed,  and  then, 
with  all  that,  they  mark  light  extra  in 
the  bill.  There  don't  seem  to  be  any 
legitimate  hotel  comforts  here  :  they  're 
all  extra.  I  vow,  I  hate  to  take  that 
hard-wood  bolster  out  from  under  my 
head  nights,  for  it  's  the  one  thing  I  get 
for  nothing  in  every  hotel. 

"Well,  Yvonne,  I  think  you  'd  better 
[266] 


With  Uncle  John 


go  down  first.  You  go  next,  Stowell, 
and  then  you,  Lee.  You  and  I,  Peters, 
will  wait  and  take  our  time.  I  vow, 
I  'm  not  very  keen  on  this  descent. 

j 

Just  held  my  hat,  will  you?  Here, 
you,  down  there,  hold  this  ladder  steady. 
Peters,  I — where  's  the  next  step  r 
Peters,  you — where  's  the  bottom  r  I 
vow  I — 

"  Safe  at  last !  quaint  old  place — old 
wall  with  a  gate  in  it,  eh  !  Fishing-rods 
and  oars  all  about ;  when  does  the  tide 
come  in  ?  Faster  than  a  horse  can  gal 
lop,  eh  r  Well,  that  must  be  sad  for 
the  horse.  Anyhow,  I  did  n't  ask  how 
fast  it  came  in  ;  I  asked  when  it  would 
come  in  next.  Well,  ask  some  one. 
An  hour  after  we  leave,  eh  r  Interest 
ing.  But  come  on ;  let  's  go  up  to 

[267] 


Seeing  France 

o 


Mme.  Poulard  Aine  and  eat  the  omelet, 
and  then  we  can  climb  around  some. 
You  walk  on,  Yvonne,  and  order  the 
luncheon,  and  Mr.  Peters  and  I  will 
come  leisurely  after.  Yes,  my  niece  is 
a  pretty  girl,  Peters,  but  nothing  but  a 
child — nothing  but  a  child.  No  more 
idea  of  worldliness  than  a  cat  has  of  a 
cactus ;  a  great  responsibility  to  travel 
with — a  great  responsibility.  Between 
you  and  me,  I  used  to  suspect  young 
Reynolds  of  paying  her  attention  ;  but 
when  he  took  another  ship  over,  and  then 
left  Paris  before  we  arrived,  I  saw  my 
suspicions  had  been  wrong.  I  said  a 
thing  or  two  about  him  to  Yvonne,  and 
she  took  it  perfectly  placidly,  so  then  I 
saw  that  it  was  all  off.  I  don't  like  to 
run  down  a  friend  of  yours,  Peters, — and 

[268] 


With  Uncle  John 


I  suppose  he  must  be  a  friend  of  yours 
or  you  would  n't  have  him  along  with 
you, — but  you  're  old  enough  to  see 
that  he  has  n't  got  the  stuff  in  him  to 
make  any  girl  happy.  He  's  too — too 
—well,  I  can't  just  express  it,  but  I 
know  that  you  understand.  It  takes 
peculiar  attributes  to  make  a  woman 
happy.  Now,  take  me  for  example. 
My  wife  and  I  were  very  happy;  she 
always  knew  just  what  was  expected  of 
her,  and  she  always  did  it.  It  followed 
naturally  that— 

"  And  so  this  is  the  famous  omelet- 
place.  Well,  in  we  go.  Quaint — very 
quaint.  Look  at  the  chickens  turning 
on  the  spit  and  dripping  in  a  trough. 
My,  but  they  look  good  !  Mme.  Pou 
lard  herself,  is  n't  it?  Good  day,  ma'am ; 
[269] 


Seeing  France 

bon  jour — bon  jour.  Glory,  what  a 
smile,  stereoscoped  and  illuminated! 
Makes  me  think  of  the  china  cat's  head 
that  we  used  to  put  a  candle  inside  of 
when  I  was  a  kid.  Do  we  go  upstairs? 
Eat  up  there,  eh  ?  Quaint — very  quaint. 
Every  fellow  did  what  he  pleased  to 
these  walls,  evidently.  Well,  Peters, 
let  's  sit  down." 

"  AND  so  we  now  set  out  to  climb 
Mont-Saint-Michel.  Picturesque  flight 
of  steps.  No,  I  don't  mind  climbing 
— good  exercise.  Curious  little  wind 
ing  walk  ;  old  woman  with  baskets  to 
sell.  No,  we  don't  want  any  ;  go  'way, 
go  'way.  Terrible  nuisance  such 
people.  Here  's  another  with  yellow 

flowers.      No,   no,   go   'way,  you — and 

[270] 


With  Uncle  John 


another  with  matches.  No,  no,  go 
'way.  Well,  that  's  a  pretty  tall  flight 
of  steps,  is  n't  it,  Peters?  But  I  gusss 
we  can  make  it.  Where  's  Yvonne? 
Ahead,  eh  ?  Well,  I  presume  those 
two  fellows  can  look  out  for  her. 
Curious  about  the  Brewers  not  turning 
up  ;  suppose  he  's  under  the  automobile 
yet  ?  Wonder  how  Freeman  is  getting 
on  in  Vire.  Let  's  stop  and  look  at  the 
view.  Fine  view  !  As  I  was  saying, 
Peters,  it  was  too  bad  the  way  we 
broke  up  at  Vire.  I  really  felt  mean 
over  leaving  as  we  did.  What  did  you 
say  ?  Nonsense  ;  none  of  that,  Peters, 
none  of  that.  But  I  will  say  one  thing 
for  her  :  she  certainly  was  a  woman  of 
great  perception — always  thoughtful 

for    others.      Did   you  notice  how   she 

[271] 


Seeing  France 

used  to  push  the  ash-receiver  toward 
me  ?  It  's  things  like  that  that  make  a 
man  comfortable.  Astonishing  that  such 
a  woman  should  never  marry.  Well, 
let  's  go  on.  Not  more  than  ninety  more 
steps  and  two  flower  women  to  get 
over.  Peters,  have  you  observed  how 
many  stairs  there  are  in  Europe  ?  It 
fairly  bristles  with  them.  We  go 
pretty  nearly  stair-free  with  us,  and 
over  here  it 's  stairs  from  dawn  till — 

"  Great  Scott,  will  you  look  at  them  ! 
Oh,  I  never  can  go  up  there,  never  ! 
We  may  as  well  go  back.  If  you 
want  to,  you  can  go  up  ;  but  I  could  n't 
possibly  see  anything  that  would  com 
pensate  me  for  those  steps.  I  '11  bet 
there  are  ten  thousand,  and  like  as  not 
there  are  more  beyond.  I  'm  going 


With  Uncle  John 


back  and  sit  with  Mme.  Poulard  Aine 
till  it  's  time  to  go.  You  go  on  alone. 
Just  tell  him  we  don't  want  any  of 
those  oyster-shell  pincushions  first,  will 
you  ?  Then  you  go  on  by  yourself, 
Peters,  I  've  had  enough." 


XIII 

YVONNE   TO    HER    MOTHER 

Sf.  Ma/o. 

DEAREST   MAMA  :   We  are 
all  here  together  again  except 
the    Brewers    and     the     two 
Tripps   and   Ellsworth    Grimm.      It   is 
very  jolly,    only   I   am   so  worried  over 
Uncle    and   Miss   Clara   Emily.      Even 
Mr.    Peters  cannot   keep    them    apart. 
Lee  took   Mr.   Peters   to   his  room  and 
talked  to   him  seriously,  and  offered  to 
make  Uncle  still  more  worth  his  while  ; 
but  Mr.    Peters    has  been  agreeable  so 
long    that  he  does  n't  do  it  well    any 
[>74] 


With  Uncle  John 


more.  He  just  looks  silly,  and  Lee 
says  if  he  was  us  he  'd  let  Uncle  go 
rip.  But  of  course  Lee  is  n't  us,  and  I 
know  that  he  can't  be  expected  to 
know  just  how  we  feel.  If  Uncle  John 
marries  Miss  Clara  Emily,  I  know  no 
one  is  going  to  like  it  at  all. 

We  went  to  Mont-Saint-Michel,  and 
every  one  but  Uncle  went  up,  and  he 
went  seven  nights  up — he  says  twenty, 
but  I  don't  believe  that  there  are  more 
than  sixteen  or  seventeen  in  all.  We 
were  ahead,  and  never  knew  that  he  had 
stopped  being  behind,  and  it  was  so  in 
teresting  on  top  that  I  forgot  I  had  an 
uncle.  There  are  beautiful  halls  and 
cloisters,  and  then  one  goes  down 
through  all  sorts  of  horrors  while  the 
guide  tells  who  lived  five  years  in  this 


Seeing  France 

hole  and  who  lived  twelve  years  under 
those  steos.      You    get  to   have  such   a 


In  Mont-Saint-Michel 


contempt     for    people   who     were    in 
prison  only  one  or  two  years  over  here — 

as  if  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  only 

[276] 


With  Uncle  John 


having  been  in  such  a  short  time. 
There  is  a  ghostly,  ghastly  museum  in 
Mont-Saint-Michel  where  the  visitors 
walk  through  an  unlighted  gallery  and 
look  in  at  wax  victims  doing  different 
things  in  a  very  thoughtful  manner — all 
but  one  man  who  walked  on  the  sand 
and  was  overtaken  by  the  tide,  and  he 
looks  anything  but  thoughtful.  The 
best  was  the  battle,  which  was  very 
realistic  and  must  have  been  very  trying 
to  the  leaders  ;  for  how  could  they  get 
absorbed  in  a  fight  when  the  tide  would 
drown  them  if  they  kept  on  a  minute 
too  long  ?  There  was  a  man  who 
thought  he  would  escape,  and  dug  a 
way  out  with  his  nails,  taking  a  short 
life-time  to  the  task  ;  and  then  he  found 
he'd  dug  in  instead  of  out,  and,  after  let- 

[277] 


Seeing  France 

ting  himself  down  with  a  rope,  he  came 
to  a  bottom  all  covered  with  skeletons. 
I  can  assure  you  that  I  was  glad  we  were 
all  together  and  that  Lee  had  my  arm 
tight,  for  the  scenes  were  awful,  and  I 
grew  so  sick  toward  the  last  that  when 
we  came  down  at  the  end  and  found 
Uncle  sitting  on  the  ramparts  with  Miss 
Clara  Emily,  I  nearly  screamed.  They 
had  all  come  while  we  were  above,  and 
Emily  and  some  men  were  out  walking 
on  the  sand.  Clara  is  somewhat  better  ; 
but  I  think  she  is  even  more  sincere 
than  usual  this  time.  In  her  locket 
she  has  some  plaster  from  the  wall  that 
she  heard  through,  and  she  says  she 
sleeps  with  it  pressed  to  her  lips.  And 
I  know  that  Miss  Clara  Emily  is  going 

to  do   everything   in   the  world   to   get 

[278] 


With  Uncle  John 


Uncle,  for  Emily  says  she  was  traveling 
just  with  a  little  hand-satchel,  and  now 
she  insists  on  a  suit-case.  Oh,  dear,  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  ;  and  Lee  is 
tired  of  the  situation,  and  wants  to  go 
yachting,  and  I  want  to  go  with  him. 
It  wrould  be  so  lovely  off  yachting  with 
Lee  ;  and  the  yacht  is  anchored  where 
we  can  see  her  from  the  city  walls. 
Lee  is  forever  pointing  to  her.  He 
says  Mr.  Stowell  would  let  him  have 
her  for  a  month,  any  day. 

We  passed  the  Brewers  on  our  way  to 
Mont-Saint-Michel,  but  they  must  have 
seen  the  Kingsleys  and  gone  back. 
Mrs.  Brewer  told  me  in  Vire  that  they 
could  never  meet  the  Kingsleys  again  ; 
she  said  that  Mr.  Brewer  said  if  he 
should  meet  Clara  he  knew  he  should 
[»79] 


Seeing  France 

explode.  I  don't  think  that  Mr. 
Brewer  has  much  heart  or  he  never 
would  have  called  poor  Clara  a  Yellow 
Kid ;  I  've  known  Clara  ever  since  I 
was  a  baby,  and  it  never  struck  me  that 
she  looked  like  that  till  she  told  me 
that  Mr.  Brewer  said  so. 

We  all  took  the  tram-ride  to  Rocabey 
yesterday,  but  one  is  so  afraid  that  a 
wave  will  wash  over  the  car  and  drench 
every  one  with  spray  that  it  is  n't  much 
fun.  The  tide  is  so  funny  all  along 
this  coast,  because  the  coast  is  so  level 
that  a  foot  of  water  covers  a  mile  or  so, 
and  when  a  wave  starts  to  come  in 
there  's  nothing  to  stop  it  at  all.  I 
don't  think  that  St.  Malo  is  very  in 
teresting,  but  perhaps  that  is  just  Uncle,, 
and  Miss  Clara  Emily.  He  sends  her 
[280] 


"  Uncle  sitting  on  the  ramparts  with  Miss  Clara  Emily" 


With  Uncle  John 


violets,  and  I  know  it  is  he,  for  it 
could  n't  be  Mr.  Peters  or  Mr.  Stowell, 
and  it  would  n't  be  Jim  Freeman  or 
Scott  McCarthy.  She  wears  them 
pinned  on  in  such  a  funny  way. 

(NEXT  DAY) 

St.  Ma/o. 

DEAREST  MAMA  :  Edna  has  sent  me 
the  letter  about  your  coming  over,  and 
I  am  so  relieved.  Perhaps  you  will 
get  here  in  time  to  save  Uncle  from 
Miss  Clara  Emily  ;  I  do  hope  so. 
Edna's  things  must  be  lovely,  and  I 
read  her  letter  to  Lee.  He  says  if 
I  'm  good  I  will  have  some  things  of 
my  own  some  day,  and  I  do  hope  so  ; 
but  Uncle  is  so  heavy  on  my  mind  that 
I  cannot  realize  that  I  shall  ever  have 
[283] 


Seeing  France 

any  life  except  trying  to  keep  him  from 
Miss  Clara  Emily.  Mr.  Peters  is  no 
good  at  all  any  more,  and  has  a  bad  cold 
besides.  He  and  Clara  sit  on  the  ram 
parts  and  gaze  at  the  sea,  and  look  as  if 
they  were  two  consolation  prizes  that 
the  people  who  won  did  n't  care 
enough  about  to  take  home  with  them. 
Lee  says  he  never  realized  that  Mr. 
Peters  could  peter  out  quite  so  com 
pletely.  Lee  wants  to  go  yachting, 
and  wants  me  to  go,  too,  and  I  can't 
leave  Uncle,  and  Uncle  won't  leave 
Miss  Clara  Emily.  It  's  quite  stupid 
here  at  St.  Malo,  and  we  want  to  go  on ; 
but  Lee  won't  go  on,  and  I  'd  rather 
stay  in  a  stupid  place  with  Lee  than  go 
anywhere  without  him.  He  's  mad 
over  the  Kingsleys  tagging  along,  be 
cause  he  likes  Scott  McCarthy  less 
[284] 


With  Uncle  John 


and  less  all  the  time.  Scott  walks  on 
the  other  side  of  me  sometimes,  and 
Lee  does  n't  like  it.  I  think  land  is 
getting  on  Lee's  nerves,  and  he  ought 
to  go  yachting  ;  but  life  is  such  a  tangle 
just  now  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do 
about  anything.  Miss  Clara  Emily  is 
hemstitching  a  handkerchief,  and  I  just 
know  that  it  is  for  Uncle.  Oh,  dear. 


(NEXT  DAY) 

Sf.  Malo. 

DEAREST  MAMA  :  Such  an  awful  thing 
almost  happened  !  Clara  had  a  night 
mare,  and  came  near  choking  to  death 
on  Mr.  Brewer's  plaster — the  locket, 
you  know.  Uncle  says  only  a  prompt, 
efficient,  quick-witted,  thoroughly  capa 
ble  nature  like  Miss  Clara  Emily's  could 


Seeing  France 

have  saved  her.  Oh,  I  just  know  he  's 
becoming  serious,  and  Lee  says  it  's  just 
tommy-rot  about  the  efficiency,  because 
all  in  the  world  that  Miss  Clara  Emily 
did  was  to  jerk  the  locket  up  by  the 
chain ;  and  she  did  that  in  such  an 
awfully  quick  way  that  poor  Clara  says 
she  's  cured  of  Mr.  Brewer  forever. 
She  will  have  to  eat  soup  through  a 
china  straw  for  several  days. 

Uncle  wants  to  go  to  Carnac  and  see 
the  ruins  of  the  Stone  Age,  and  he  and 
Miss  Clara  Emily  are  mapping  out  a 
trip.  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I  '11 
do,  for  Scott  McCarthy  has  bet  Mr. 
Stowell  ten  dollars  that  Uncle  gets 
"hooked"  in  Carnac.  Lee  told  me, and 
Lee  himself  is  provisioning  the  yacht, 
and  says  he  's  cock-sure  that  he  eats 
[286] 


With  Uncle  John 


some  of  those  provisions  aboard  of  her 
himself.  Emily  does  n't  want  to  go  to 
Carnac,  and  Jim  Freeman  says  it  is  n't 
any  automobile  country,  on  account  of 
the  relics  of  the  Stone  Age  being  so 
thick  in  the  roads. 

(NEXT  DAY) 

Sf.  Ma/o. 

DEAREST  MAMA  :  Why  did  n't  you 
write  me  that  Mrs.  Whalen  was  com 
ing  abroad  ?  She  arrived  last  night  on 
the  Jersey  boat,  and  saw  Uncle  and 
Miss  Clara  Emily  on  the  ramparts 
through  her  marine  glasses.  She  hunted 
us  up  at  once,  for  she  says  that  affair 
must  stop  right  where  it  is.  She  asked 
if  you  approved  of  Lee,  and  when  I 
told  her  that  you  did,  she  said  then  she 

[287] 


Seeing  France 

had  nothing  to  say.  Lee  introduced 
her  to  Mr.  Peters,  and  she  sent  him 
straight  to  bed  and  had  them  poultice 
his  chest  and  mustard-plaster  his  back, 
for  she  says  his  cold  may  run  into  any 
thing.  I  took  her  up  to  Clara,  and  she 
sent  out  for  sweet  oil,  and  stopped  the 
china  straw,  and  set  her  to  gargling. 
She  says  it  's  awful  the  amount  she 
finds  to  do  everywhere  she  goes,  and 
she  was  in  a  train  accident  before  she 
came  to  the  steamer,  and  you  ought  to 
hear  how  she  chopped  people  out.  The 
shade  in  my  room  did  n't  work,  and  she 
put  a  chair  on  a  wash-stand,  and  fixed 
it  with  a  screw-driver  that  she  carries 
in  her  pocket.  Jim  Freeman  wants  her 
to  go  under  the  automobile  with  him ; 

but   she  says  since  she  's  a  widow  she 
[288] 


With  Uncle  John 


never  goes  anywhere  alone  with  one 
man.  Uncle  and  Miss  Clara  Emily 
came  in  just  then,  and  the  effect  was 
paralyzing.  Uncle  turned  red, and  poor 
Miss  Clara  Emily  nearly  sank  to  the 
floor.  Mrs.  Whalen  advanced  toward 
them  as  if  she  were  a  general  leading  a 
cavalry  charge  afoot,  and  said  :  "  Well, 
so  the  old  folks  have  been  out  sunning 
themselves  !  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
anything  more  cruel  ?  Miss  Clara 
Emily  looked  blue  with  rage,  and  said 
she  must  go  to  Clara,  and  Mrs.  Whalen 
said  :  "  John,  come  with  me,"  and  took 
Uncle  off  behind  some  palms,  and  Lee 
and  I  went  away  so  as  not  to  be  any 
where  when  he  came  out. 

We  did  n't  come  back   until    nearly 
six,   and    Lee  said  he    supposed  we  'd 

19  [289] 


Seeing  France 

find  Uncle  and  Mr.  Peters  learning  to 
play  "  old  maid  "  ;  but  when  we  came 
in,  Uncle  was  reading  a  New  York 
paper  about  a  month  old,  and  Mrs. 
Whalen  had  gone  out  with  Scott 
McCarthy  to  buy  Clara  a  hot-water 
bag.  Miss  Clara  Emily  was  upstairs 
packing,  to  take  Clara  to  a  specialist 
somewhere  else.  Mrs.  Whalen  came 
to  my  room  after  dinner,  and  said  I 
must  rub  kerosene  or  vaseline  into  my 
hair  every  night  for  a  month.  I  don't 
want  to,  but  I  'm  so  grateful  about  Uncle 
that  I  '11  pour  a  lamp  over  myself  if  she 
wants  me  to.  Uncle  came  to  my  room 
a  while  later  and  said:  "  Hum  !  "  and 
shook  his  watch,  and  held  it  to  his  ear. 
I  don't  think  he  liked  being  broken  up 

with    Miss  Clara    Emily,  but    he  only 
[290] 


With  Uncle  John 


said  that  he  was  going  out  on  the  ytcht 
to-morrow  (that  's  to-day),  and  for  me 
to  consider  myself  in  Mrs.  Whalen's 
charge  for  the  time  being. 

He  went  away  early  this  morning 
with  Mr.  Peters  and  Jim  Freeman  and 
Lee,  and  Mrs.  Whalen  and  I  saw  the 
Kingsleysofffor  Rennes  at  noon.  I  'm 
sure  Miss  Clara  Emily  felt  dreadfully 
over  Uncle,  and  Emily  says  she  's  more 
than  ever  ashamed  of  having  such  an 
aunt.  Emily  told  me  that  if  an  English 
man  came  on  this  afternoon's  boat  from 
Jersey,  to  tell  him  they  'd  gone  to  Dol. 
She  did  n't  want  him  in  Rennes,  because 
she  knows  two  French  officers  in 
Rennes.  It  was  not  a  very  nice  day 
for  traveling,  for  there  is  such  a  wind 

they  won't  be  able  to  have  the  windows 
[291] 


Seeing  France 

down  at  all,  and  you  know  it 's  only 
fun  when  you  have  the  windows  down. 
Mrs.  Whalen  says  she  'd  have  the 
windows  down  anyway  ;  she  says  she  'd 
like  to  see  the  Frenchman  that  she 
would  n't  put  a  window  down  in  his 
face,  if  she  felt  like  it.  I  asked  her 
where  she  was  going  next,  and  she  said 
she  had  no  idea,  but  she  thought  to 
Dol  and  Mont-Saint-Michel,  as  long  as 
she  is  so  near.  She  says  it  was  a  stroke 
of  luck  her  happening  here  just  in  time 
to  save  Uncle ;  she 's  positive  he  was 
holding  her  hand  through  the  marine 
glasses.  She  says  it 's  good  she  came 
about  Mr.  Peters,  too,  not  to  speak  of 
Clara. 

It  keeps   blowing    more,   and   Scott 
McCarthy  says  that  they  '11  be   out  all 


"  Mrs.  Whalen  has  just  come  in  to  say  she  's  going  to  Dol  " 


With    Uncle  John 


night.  Lee  will  like  that,  and  Uncle 
won't,  and  Uncle  will  see  that  Lee  likes 
it  and  then  he  won't  like  Lee.  Oh, 
dear  !  But  I  must  n't  mind  anything 
as  long  as  Miss  Clara  Emily  is  gone. 

Mrs.  Whalen  has  just  come  in  to  say 
that  she  's  going  to  Dol,  so  as  to  see  the 
tide  come  in  at  Mont-Saint-Michel, 
and  to  measure  out  the  ginger  so  I  can 
make  Mr.  Peters  the  tea.  I  'm  sure 
I  'm  glad  she  is  going,  for  she  makes 
me  so  tired  and  nervous,  always  hopping 
up  to  fix  something  with  her  screw 
driver,  and  I  want  to  wash  the  petro 
leum  out  of  my  hair  hefore  Lee  comes 
back.  He  does  n't  like  the  smell  of 
petroleum  at  all.  I  offered  to  help  her 
pack,  but  she  does  n't  pack.  She  wears 
a  sort  of  night-gown  for  underwaist  and 


Seeing  France 

petticoat  together,  and  the  front  of  her 
blouse  has  pockets  inside  for  all  her 
toilet  things.  She  says  she  washes  one 
garment  every  night,  and  buys  a  clean 
handkerchief  each  Saturday  and  Wednes 
day,  and  has  a  pocket  for  her  letter  of 
credit  sewed  to  her  corset.  I  think  it 
is  awful  to  be  so  very  convenient. 

Later. 

SHE  went  and  never  said  a  thing  about 
me,  for  it  left  me  all  alone  with  Scott 
McCarthy,  ana  I  know  Lee  won't  like 
that  at  all.  The  mail  came,  and  I 
thought  I  'd  better  say  I  had  a  headache 
and  come  up  here  to  stay  alone  till  Uncle 
comes  back.  I  had  all  your  letters 
and  Edna's.  Edna  is  so  happy,  and 

everything  goes  so  smooth  for  her  and 
[296] 


With  Uncle  John 


Harry  that  I  'm  almost  sorry  some 
days  that  I  'm  Uncle's  favorite.  Lee 
wants  to  tell  Uncle  right  out  and  be 
done  with  it ;  but  I  want  to  wait  for  a 
favorable  time,  and  every  time  that 
things  begin  to  look  favorable  some 
thing  unexpected  happens  to  make  him 
say  ''Hum."  It  is  so  trying.  Edna 
says  she  's  getting  a  lot  of  things  twice 
over  so  that  I  can  have  half,  and  she  says 

she  thinks  we  ought  to  be  coming  back 

<? 

so  as  to   meet  you.      I  can't   make   her 

understand  how  helpless  I  am,  for  I 
can't  do  anything  with  Uncle  unless 
I  'm  alone  with  him  enough  to  make 
him  think  that  I  want  to  do  something 
else.  And  Lee  thinks  it  is  an  outrage 
and  says  he  has  rights,  too.  I  do  think 
that  if  I  did  n't  love  Lee  I  would  be 


Seeing  France 

really  glad  to  have  the  world  all 
women,  men  are  so  difficult  to  get 
along  with. 

But,  you  know,  no  matter  what  I  say, 
I  'm  having  a  lovely  time  after  all,  and 
I  am  grateful  to  Uncle  for  having 
brought  us. 

Lovingly, 

YVONNE. 

P.  S.  It  is  ten  o'clock,  and  the  yacht 
never  came  in.  If  Uncle  gets  seasick 
in  a  storm,  he  '11  never  want  to  lay 
eyes  on  Lee  again,  and  he  '11  never  for 
give  me. 


[298] 


XIV 

YVONNE    TO    HER    MOTHER 

Carnac, 

DEAR  MAMA  :  I  'm  just  about 
in  despair,  and  Lee  does  n't 
know    where    I    am.        We 
reached   Carnac   last    night,  and   Uncle 
is  "hum-ming"  like  a  top,  so  to  speakc 
But  I  must  tell  you  all  about  it. 

The  yacht  got  too  far  out,  and  the 
new  thumb-screw,  or  whatever  it  is  on 
a  yacht,  stuck,  and  they  blew  and 
pitched  until  they  pitched  on  to  the 
Island  of  Jersey,  where  Lee  and 
Uncle  went  ashore  for  Lee  to  send  a 
[299] 


Seeing  France 

machinist  aboard.  While  Lee  was 
busy,  Uncle  just  quietly  went  aboard 
the  Jersey  boat  and  came  back  to  St. 
Malo  without  saying  please  or  thank 
you  to  a  soul.  He  walked  in  on  me 
and  told  me  we  were  to  leave  for  Dol 
the  next  day,  and  for  Heaven's  sake  not 
to  remind  him  of  Aunt  Jane  by  asking 
questions.  I  was  dreadfully  upset,  but 
of  course  I  never  thought  for  a  minute 
of  reminding  him  of  Aunt  Jane,  so  I 
packed  that  evening  and  left  a  letter 
for  Lee  telling  him  please  not  to  be 
vexed.  We  took  an  early  train  for  Dol 
(it  's  ^always  Dol  in  Brittany),  and  in 
Dol  we  changed  for  Rennes.  Of 
course  I  thought  that  Uncle  was  chas 
ing  Miss  Clara  Emily  when  I  saw  the 
train  marked  Rennes,  but  I  did  n't  dare 
[300] 


With  Uncle  John 


say  a  word,  for  he  never  spoke  but  once 
between  Dol  and  Rennes,  and  that  time 
all  he  said  was  "  Hum.' 


A  Street  in  Auray 

We  reached  Rennes,  and  I  thought 
we  would  go  to  a  hotel ;  but  we 
changed  cars  again — this  time  for  Redon. 
Uncle  spoke  again,  and  asked  me  if  I 
had  the  Gaelic  grammar  handy.  I 


Seeing  France 

said  no,  and  he  said  "  Hum."  Then 
we  reached  Redon  and  changed  cars 
again  for  Auray.  Going  to  Auray, 
Uncle  asked  me  what  became  of  Mrs. 
Whalen,  and  when  I  told  him  that  she 
went  to  Mont-Saint-Michel,  he  said  her 
husband  was  a  lucky  man  to  be  dead. 
Then  we  came  to  Auray  and  changed 
cars  for  Plouharnel,  and  I  began  to 
wonder  why  we  did  n't  run  off  the  end 
of  Brittany  into  the  sea.  We  reached 
Plouharnel  about  four  in  the  after 
noon,  and  took  a  tram  for  Carnac 
at  once,  and  when  we  reached  Carnac 
Uncle  said  to  pardon  the  personality  of 
the  statement,  but  that  he  never  again 
would  try  to  keep  up  with  the  eternal 
activity  of  a  young  person.  I  thought 
that  that  was  pretty  hard  when  I  did  n't 
[302] 


With  Uncle  John 


even  know  where  we  were  going,  but  I 
did  n't  say  anything,  and  when  he  went 
to  wash,  I  gave  the  waiter  an  extra  tip 
to  feed  us  quickly.  After  Uncle  ate, 
we  went  out  and  walked  around  Carnac 
a  very  little  and  saw  all  the  people  in 
their  black  velvet  hat-ribbons  and  short 
jackets;  but  when  I  said  they  looked 
picturesque,  Uncle  said  that  they  looked 
like  darned  fools,  so  we  came  home, 
and  now  we  are  going  to  bed.  I  have 
written  Lee,  but  I  don't  know  when  he 
will  get  it,  because  of  course  it  will 
have  to  go  backward  through  all  these 
changes. 

(NEXT   DAY) 

Carnac. 
DEAREST  MAMA  :   Uncle  woke  up  ever 

[305] 


Seeing  France 

so  much  better  this  morning,  and  told 
me  that  he  pitied  any  poor  wretch  who 
has  ever  been  sicker  than  he  was  on 
"  that  d—  — d  yacht."  He  said,  too, 
that  any  one  who  could  suppose  for  a 
minute  that  he  should  have  any  serious 
intentions  toward  such  a  woman  as  Miss 
Clara  Emily  would  be  even  more  of  an 
utter  idiot  than  Mrs.  Whalen  appeared 
to  be.  He  said,  too,  that  the  ticket- 
agent  who  told  him  that  Carnac  was 
an  easy  place  to  go  to,  ought  to  be 
strangled  by  the  first  traveler  who  got 
back  alive  from  the  effects  of  be 
lieving  him  to  be  telling  the  truth. 
He  said,  too,  that  if  he  survived  Europe 
and  reached  home  again,  he  'd  get  in 
a  bathtub  and  know  when  he  was  well 
off  for  one  while.  He  said,  too,  that 


With  Uncle  John 


when  he  had  once    looked   arpimd   the 
Stone    Age  he  was  going    to   head   for 


,  06, 

"  Broke  the  bell-rope  ordering  breakfast  " 

Paris  with  a  speed  which  he  rather 
guessed  would  cause  the  natives  to  open 
their  eyes. 

[307] 


Seeing  France 

Then  he  went  to  his  room  and  broke 
the  bell-rope  ordering  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  we  went  to  walk  and 
saw  more  stone  walls  than  I  ever  saw 
before.  There  is  n't  a  wooden  house  or 
fence  in  the  whole  of  Brittany,  I  be 
lieve.  We  walked  to  a  tiny  village 
called  St.  Columban's,  and  climbed  the 
tower  of  the  little  church.  There  was 
a  fine  view,  but  Uncle  said  he  could 
smell  the  oysters  for  miles  around,  so  we 
came  down  right  off  and  walked  back. 
There  was  a  girl  who  said  she  would 
drive  us  all  over  in  the  afternoon,  and 
let  us  take  the  night  train  from  Auray  ; 
so  we  returned  to  the  hotel  and  had  an 
early  lunch,  and  then  she  came  to  the 
door  with  a  shaky  old  thing  like  a  carry 
all  and  a  fat  little  horse,  and  we  started. 
[308] 


With  Uncle  John 


Mama,  you  never  saw  anything  like 
Uncle.  Everything  was  wrong  at  first 
— every  living  thing,  and  the  one  saving 
grace  of  the  situation  was  that  the  girl 
who  drove  could  n't  speak  English. 
But  after  a  while  we  came  to  the  first 
menhirs,  and  Uncle  just  about  went 
into  a  fit.  They  are  the  most  curious 
things  I  ever  saw,  for  they  stand  in 
parallel  rows  miles  long  and  every  one 
is  resting  on  its  little  end  and  has  been 
resting  on  its  little  end  for  thousands  of 
years.  At  the  first  glance  Uncle  said 
they  were  arranged  so  just  for  tourists  ; 
but  he  got  out  and  walked  around  them 
and  tried  to  shake  one  or  two,  and  then 
he  said  he  would  n't  have  missed  seeing 
them  for  the  world  and  that  he  should 
never  regret  coming  to  Europe  as  long 
[309] 


Seeing  France 

as  he  might  live  hereafter.  He  was 
perfectly  lovely  for  a  while  after  that, 
and  we  looked  at  dolmens  and  crom 
lechs  the  whole  afternoon,  and  some 
times  we  thought  they  were  hay-mows 
when  we  saw  them  far  ahead  and 
sometimes  we  thought  they  were 
houses.  We  only  had  one  unfortunate 
time,  and  that  was  when  we  had  to 
ferry  over  the  Crach.  The  ferry  was 
on  the  other  side,  and  that  upset  Uncle 
right  away  and  he  asked  me  if  my  ex 
perience  had  ever  led  me  to  a  ferry  that 
was  not  on  the  other  side.  They  took 
nearly  half  an  hour  to  bring  it  across, 
and  Uncle  said  that  it  would  be  a  great 
day  for  Europe  if  she  ever  learned  what 
t-i-rn-e  spelt,  and  he  looked  at  me  as  if 
I  were  Europe  while  he  said  it.  They 


With  Uncle  John 


are  building  a  bridge  over  the  Crach, 
and  as  soon  as  we  embarked  on  the 
rickety  old  ferry,  it  blew  in  between 
two  of  the  piers  and  wedged  tight,  with 
us  on  it.  Uncle  asked  me  if  I  was 
going  to  have  the  face  to  tell  him  that 
we  were  not  stuck  and  were  not  going 
to  be  stuck  there  indefinitely,  and  I 
really  did  n't  know  what  to  answer. 
The  men  in  the  boat  hollered  and  hauled 
and  swore  in  Gaelic,  and  finally  we 
were  free  for  fifty  feet,  and  then  the 
tide  blew  us  in  between  two  ether 
piers.  Uncle  said  he  could  but  feel 
that  being  stuck  twice  on  the  same 
ferry  was  a  poor  reward  for  a  kind- 
hearted  man  who  was  trying  to  the 
best  of  his  ability  to  give  some  species 
of  instructive  amusement  to  an  innocent 


Seeing  France 

girl,  and  then  he  looked  severely  at  the 
setting  sun  while  we  came  loose  again 
and  progressed  fifty  feet  more.  A  great, 
thick  wave  came  then  and  broke  over 
the  horse  and  smashed  us  in  so  hard  and 
fast  that  I  was  honestly  scared.  Uncle 
was  too  mad  for  words.  He  said  that 
he  would  just  make  one  remark,  and 
that  was  that  if  he  ever  gave  me  a 
chance  to  beguile  him  away  from  civili 
zation  again  he  would  cheerfully  and 
contentedly  and  silently  end  his  days  on 
any  ferry  which  I  would  choose  to 
designate  to  him.  It  was  getting  cold, 
and  I  was  so  tired  from  yesterday  that 
I  just  shut  my  eyes  and  did  not  speak 
at  all,  and  when  we  came  loose,  Uncle 
spoke  to  me  quite  gently  and  was  very 
nice  all  the  rest  of  the  way. 


With  Uncle  John 


We  were  too  late  for  the  train  and 
have  come  back  to  Carnac.  I  feel 
about  done  up. 

(NEXT  DAY) 

Carnac. 

DEAREST  MAMA  :  Lee  and  Edna  and 
Mrs.  Clary  are  all  here.  Just  listen. 
Lee  looks  like  a  ghost,  and  it  seems  that 
no  one  noticed  Uncle  go  aboard  that 
Jersey  boat  because  Uncle  went  aboard 
by  a  gang-plank  that  's  forbidden,  and 
he  thought  that  he  was  drowned,  and 
they  dragged  the  dock  and  sent  down 
divers,  and  finally  came  over  to  St. 
Malo  to  break  the  news  to  me,  having 
telegraphed  Mrs.  Clary  and  Edna 
to  come  at  once.  He  reached  St. 
M#lo  only  to  find  us  gone,  and  they 
[3*3] 


Seeing  France 

have  been  tracing  us  with  the  automo 
bile  ever  since.  Lee  is  so  glad  Uncle 
is  alive  that  he  keeps  grabbing  his  hand 
and  shaking  it  and  shaking  it,  and  Uncle 
says  I  must  not  mention  it  to  Lee,  for 
it  might  go  to  his  head,  but  that  he  is 
one  of  the  few  young  men  who  have  a 
heart  in  the  right  place,  and  that  he  has 
always  had  a  special  fondness  for  him 
ever  since  he  was  a  baby.  Lee  thinks 
that  under  the  circumstances  we  had 
better  tell  Uncle  to-night,  and  we  are 
going  to.  I  feel  rather  nervous,  but 
Lee  says  he  can  never  stand  anything 
like  these  three  days  again. 

Midnight  of  the  same  day. 
MY  OWN  DEAREST  MAMA  :   Uncle  says 
yes !      He  says  he   has    been   carefully 


n 


With  Uncle  John 


scheming  and  planning  to  bring  Lee 
and  me  together  for  years.  He  says 
there  are  traits  in  Lee  which  are  so  like 
his  own  that  he  cannot  but  admit  that 
Lee  is  one  of  the  very  few  men  in  this 
world  calculated  to  make  a  woman 
happy.  He  told  Mrs.  Clary  that  he 
had  foreseen  this  finale  to  our  trip  all 
along,  and  I  do  believe  that  he  really 
believes  himself. 

The  Brewers  arrived  about  nine 
o'clock  to-night,  and  they  are  so  de 
lighted.  Mr.  Brewer  is  so  kind;  he  says 
Uncle  must  go  to  Locmariaquer  and 
around  that  way  with  them.  I  reckon 
he  thinks  I  need  a  rest.  We  told  them 
about  Clara  and  the  locket,  and  1 
thought  that  they  would  die.  Mr. 
Brewer  says  that  never  a  day  passes 


Seeing  France 

without  their  remembering  something 
fresh  which  she  must  have  overheard. 

I  am  so  happy  over  Uncle  that  I 
hardly  know  what  to  do.  He  says  it 
has  been  the  pleasantest  trip  of  his  life, 
this  little  tour  with  me,  and  that  Lee 
must  never  cease  to  treat  me  with  the 
tender  care  which  he  has  given  me  all 
along.  He  says  Lee  must  remember 
what  a  sensitive  organization  a  woman 
has  and  never  indulge  in  temper  or  im 
patience  or  strong  language  or  sarcasm. 
Lee  is  very  nice  and  says  "  Yes,  sir," 
and  nods  every  time.  I  do  think  Lee 
gets  nicer  and  nicer  all  the  time. 

We  start  toward  Paris  to-morrow. 
Your  awfully  happy, 

YVONNE. 


XV 

UNCLE    JOHN  WELL    CONTENT 

ELL,  Mrs.  Brewer,  this  is 
certainly  the  only  way  to 
travel,  after  all.  Comfortable, 
clean, — for  if  there  is  a  smell,  some  other 
fellow  gets  it, — and  no  jolting.  And 
now  that  I  have  that  dear  child  estab 
lished  and  off  my  mind,  I  feel  that  I  can 
conscientiously  give  myself  a  few  days  of 
free  and  easy  pleasure.  I  've  done 
nothing  up  to  now  but  consider  Yvonne 
and  her  needs,  mental  and  material,  and 
although  I  love  the  child  like  my  own, 
still  I  cannot  but  admit  that  a  young 
[3*9] 


Seeing  France 

girl  is  a  great  care.  And  of  course  you 
never  can  be  positive  that  the  right  man 
will  turn  up.  However,  all  's  well 
that  ends  well,  and  I  'm  happy  to  say 
that  I  'm  ending  this,  little  trip  ex 
tremely  well  content.  Some  men  might 
regret  not  having  seen  more,  but  never 
me.  You  see,  Brewer,  I  am  one  of  the 
easy-going,  placid,  serene  type,  and 
whatever  turns  up  suits  me  perfectly.  I 
guess  if  you  ask  my  family  far  and  wide 
you  won't  find  one  member  to  deny 
that  statement,  or  if  you  do,  you  will 
just  have  the  kindness  to  let  me  know 
who  it  is  and  I  '11  take  steps  to  prevent 
their  ever  expressing  such  an  opinion  a 
second  time. 

"  Fine  view  here.   Good  road.   Believe 
I  '11  have  a  machine  of  my  own  when  I 


With  Uncle  John 


get  back  to  America.  What  's  that 
island  off  at  sea?  Belle-Isle,  eh?  Du 
mas'  Belle-Isle  ?  Very  interesting. 
We  might  make  a  little  excursion  out 
there,  calling  ourselves  the  Three 
Mousquetaires,  eh  ?  I  '11  be  d'Artag- 
nan  ;  I  always  fancy  d'Artagnan.  I  tell 
you,  Brewer,  something  martial  gets 
up  and  stirs  around  in  my  bosom  as  a 
result  of  this  trip — a  sort  of  dare-devil, 
Robert-the-Devil,  piratical,  Crusader 
sort  of  a  thrill.  I  shall  never  be  sorry 
that  I  came.  The  trip  has  not  been 
one  of  unmitigated  joy.  We  have 
borne  our  crosses, — many  crosses, — and 
yet  I  will  remark — and  I  '11  swear  it, 
too,  if  you  like, — that  I  'm  glad  I 
came. 

"  I  Ve  seen   thorougnly   every  place 

31 


Seeing  France 

I  've  been  in.  I  Ve  made  my  niece 
enjoy  life,  and  I  've  made  every  one 
else  with  whom  I  came  in  contact 
enjoy  life.  I  've  won  for  her  just  the 
one  man  calculated  to  make  her  happy, 
and  now  I  am  headed  for  the  one  land 
calculated  to  make  me  happy. 

"  I  'm  glad  that  I  came,   I  'm  glad 
that  I  came." 

THE     END 


[322] 


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